UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  FRANCISCO  LIBRARY 


OCA*  * 


INTELLIGENCE 

IN 

PLANTS  AND  ANIMALS 

BEING  A  NEW  EDITION  OF  THE  AUTHOR'S 
PRIVATELY   ISSUED   "SOUL  AND  IMMORTALITY" 

BY 

THOMAS  G.  GENTRY,  Sc.  D. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  LIFE-HISTORIES  OF  BIRDS  OF  EASTERN  PENNSYLVANIA," 
"THE  HOUSE  SPARROW,"  "NESTS  AND  EGGS  OF  BIRDS 

OF  THE  UNITED   STATES,"   ETC.,  ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  CO. 

1900 


Copyright  1900, 

BY 
DOUBLEDAY,    PAGE  &  CO, 


TO 

HUMAN  BEINGS 
WHO  ARE  GOOD  AND  KIND 

TO  THE   HUMBLEST   OF   GOD'S  CREATURES 

THIS  VOLUME 

IS  MOST   AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED 
BY  THE   AUTHOR. 


"  Every  beast  of  the  forest  is  mine,  and  the  cattle  upon  a  thousand 
hills. 

4 '  I  know  all  the  fowls  of  the  mountains  :  and  the  wild  beasts  of  the 
field  are  mine." — Psalm  1  :  10,  n. 


PREFACE. 


NOTHING  is  more  charming  to  the  mind  of  man  than  the  study  of 
Nature.  Religion,  moderation  and  magnanimity  have  been  made  a 
part  of  his  inner  being  through  her  teachings,  and  the  soul  has  been 
rescued  by  her  influence  from  obscurity.  No  longer  doth  man  grovel 
in  the  dust,  seeking,  animal-like,  the  gratification  of  low  and  base 
desires,  as  was  his  wont,  but  on  the  wings  of  thought  is  enabled  to  soar 
to  the  very  gates  of  Heaven  and  hold  communion  with  God. 

Though  made  "  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,"  yet,  through  the 
mighty  play  of  forces  that  have  been  at  work  in  the  world,  which  we, 
in  the  latter  half  of  this  enlightened  century,  are  just  beginning  to 
recognize  and  comprehend,  he  has  been  lifted  from  the  mire  of  degra- 
dation and  placed  upon  a  higher  social,  intellectual,  moral  and  spiritual 
level.  Out  of  the  animal,  in  the  scheme  of  Deity,  the  spiritual  system 
of  things  is  to  be  elaborated,  and  not  the  animal  out  of  the  spiritual. 
This  natural  world,  so  to  speak,  is  the  raw  material  of  the  spiritual. 
Therefore,  ere  man  can  understand  the  spiritual,  he  must  understand 
the  natural.  Though  his  knowledge  was  at  first  about  material  things, 
or  such  as  pertained  to  natural  phenomena,  yet  from  this  through  the 
ages  has  been  builded,  little  by  little,  that  mountain-height  of  knowl- 
edge, intellectual  and  moral;  which,  if  rightly  directed,  is  to  bring  him 
into  fellowship  with  Deity.  "As  we  have  borne  the  image  of  the  earthy, 
we  shall  also  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly,"  or,  Lord  from  heaven. 

When  is  considered,  therefore,  the  immense  good  which  the  study 
and  investigation  of  nature  have  accomplished,  it  is  not  at  all  surprising 
that  the  literature  on  the  subject  should  be  markedly  in  the  ascendant. 
Natural  science  bids  fair  to  be  in  a  preeminent  degree  the  pursuit  of 
the  coming  man.  There  is  no  end  to  the  books  that  have  been  written 
upon  the  subject  during  the  past  few  decades,  if  not  by  specialists,  but 


2  Preface. 

by  men  and  women  who  have  been  well  informed  and  who  have  made 
themselves  fully  capable  of  contemplating  understandingly  the  world 
which  lies  about  them. 

Our  libraries  are  to-day  quite  affluent  in  books  that  are  the  handmaids 
of  natural  science.  Michelet  and  Hugh  Miller,  in  their  day,  opened 
glorious  new  worlds  before  a  rising  generation,  and  that  generation  is 
now  doing  excellent  work  under  the  inspiration  of  the  impetus  which 
it  then  received.  Tait,  Balfour  Stewart,  Dawson,  Gray,  McCook, 
Thompson,  Scudder,  Mrs.  Treat,  Olive  Thorne  Miller  and  others  have 
done  much  to  continue  the  interest,  pleasure  and  enthusiasm  awakened 
by  those  earlier  writers,  and  even  Darwin  and  Huxley  themselves,  in 
detailing  their  experiments,  have  not  scorned  to  bring  their  thoughts 
within  the  range  of  narrower  minds. 

But  in  the  popularization  of  natural  science  no  man  has  done  more 
than  Rev.  J.  G.  Wood  in  his  numerous  works.  Not  only  have  his 
writings  created  in  thousands  a  taste  for  nature-studies,  but  they  have 
been  no  less  the  means  of  cultivating  the  observation,  awakening 
enthusiasm  and  directing  effort  in  the  lines  of  original  research  and 
discovery.  Certainly  no  one,  as  his  many  writings  so  abundantly  attest, 
possessed  a  larger  fund  of  knowledge  concerning  the  powers  and 
capabilities  of  the  lower  animals  than  this  author.  Few  knew  our 
domestic  animals  better  than  he,  and  none  was  more  capable  of  judging 
of  the  mental  and  moral  status  which  they  should  occupy  in  the  world 
of  animals.  It  is  true  that  men  and  women,  eminent  in  theology, 
literature  and  science,  had  expressed  a  belief  in  the  idea  that  the  "  latent 
powers  and  capacities"  of  the  lower  animals  might  be  developed  in  a 
future  life,  but  no  one  had  felt  secure  enough  in  this  belief  to  warrant 
more  than  a  passing  thought  or  two  upon  the  subject. 

Bishop  Butler,  in  his  "Analogy  of  Religion,"  undoubtedly  believed 
the  lower  animals  capable  of  a  future  life.  In  speaking  of  them  in 
this  connection  in  the  opening  of  his  work,  he  says  :  "  It  is  said  these 
observations  are  equally  applicable  to  brutes  ;  and  it  is  thought  an 
insuperable  difficulty  that  they  should  be  immortal,  and  by  consequence 
capable  of  everlasting  happiness.  And  this  manner  of  expression  is 
both  invidious  and  weak  ;  but  the  thing  intended  by  it  is  really  no  diffi- 
culty at  all,  either  in  the  way  of  natural  or  moral  consideration." 


Preface.  3 

Referring  then  to  the  undeveloped  powers  and  capacities  of  the  so- 
called  brutes,  the  Bishop  could  perceive  no  reason  why  they  should  not 
attain  their  development  in  an  existence  beyond  the  earth-life.  It  was 
in  pursuance  of  this  same  train  of  thought  that  Rev.  J.  G.  Wood  was 
led  to  show  in  a  work,  entitled  "  Man  and  Beast  Here  and  Hereafter," 
that  the  lower  animals  do  possess  those  mental  and  moral  characteris- 
tics—the attributes  of  reason,  language,  memory,  moral  responsibility, 
unselfishness  and  love — which  we  admit  in  man  as  belonging  to  the 
immortal  spirit,  rather  than  to  the  perishable  body.  Having  previously 
cleared  away  the  difficulties  which  certain  passages  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment seemingly  interposed,  and  proved  that  the  Scriptures  do  not  deny 
futurity  of  life  to  lower  animals,  he  very  naturally  concluded  that  as 
man  expects  to  retain  these  qualities  in  the  future  life  there  is  every 
reason  to  suppose  that  they  may  share  his  immortality  in  the  Hereafter 
as  in  the  Now  they  are  partakers  of  his  mortal  nature. 

Few  minds,  unswayed  by  thoughts  materialistic,  can  study  the 
living  works  of  God,  whether  vegetal  or  animal,  and  fail  to  be  con- 
vinced that  they,  as  living  exponents  of  Divine  conceptions,  are  as 
needful  in  the  world  of  spirit  as  in  the  world  of  matter.  While  many 
are  disposed  to  believe  that  man  will  share  the  future  life  with  beast, 
bird,  insect  and  such  like,  yet  but  few,  if  any,  can  be  found  who  believe 
that  tree  and  shrub  and  flower  will  be  there  to  continue  the  life  begun 
on  earth  and  reach  out  to  higher  and  fuller  development.  In  announc- 
ing this  belief,  the  author  but  expresses  a  conviction  as  deep  as  any 
that  could  occupy  a  human  mind.  The  possession  of  soul  and  spirit 
can  be  predicated  no  less  of  plants  than  of  man  and  the  lower  animals. 
They  have  all  one  breath  or  life  and  one  spirit,  and  as  such  are  living 
souls,  living,  breathing  frames  or  bodies  of  life.  From  being  living, 
breathing  frames,  and  endowed  with  the  same  life  and  spirit  as  man 
and  the  lower  animals,  they  have  all  one  destiny,  for  "  all  go  unto  one 
place  ;  all  are  of  the  dust,  and  all  turn  to  dust  again."  But  of  the  new 
life  which  Christ  came  down  to  earth  to  proffer  to  man  that  he  might 
inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.  While  to  man  it  was  only  offered,  and 
had  for  its  purpose  the  uplifting  and  improvement  of  his  earth-life  by 
the  promise  of  something  higher  and  better  to  those  who  are  accounted 
worthy,  yet  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  was  equally  intended  through 


4  Preface. 

his  uplifting  to  place  all  the  creatures  of  the  earth  over  which  he  was 
given  dominion  by  God  upon  a  more  elevated  and  nobler  plane,  so 
that  those  which  had  been  profited  in  the  earth-life  by  his  beneficent 
influence  should  become  partakers  with  him  in  the  new  life,  when 
Christ  shall  "  transfigure  the  body  of  our  humiliation,  that  it  may 
become  of  like  form  with  the  body  of  His  glory,  by  the  power  of  that 
which  enables  Him  even  to  subdue  all  things  to  Himself."  As  all 
existence  is  a  unit,  which  the  author  has  taken  especial  pains  through 
the  body  of  this  book  to  impress  upon  the  minds  of  his  readers,  it  can 
hardly  be  conceived  that  an  all-wise  God,  who  is  infinite  in  love, 
mercy  and  justice,  would  look  to  the  preservation  in  a  future  state  of 
but  a  very  small  part  of  the  life  which  He  has  been  instrumental  in 
placing  upon  this  earth.  It  would  be  more  consistent  with  His  attri- 
butes, and  with  the  scheme  of  development  of  life  upon  our  planet, 
whereby  life  has  been  progressive,  the  fittest  only  being  allowed  to 
survive,  to  have  provided  in  the  grand  plan  of  redemption,  not  merely 
the  salvation  of  the  highest  of  earth-life,  but  of  all  life,  the  purest  and 
the  best,  that  would  represent  in  the  heaven-life,  in  spiritualized  form, 
the  highest  living  exponents  of  Divine  ideas.  No  other  belief  accords 
so  well  with  the  teachings  of  science  and  philosophy.  In  its  accept- 
ance, for  it  makes  all  life  related  to  the  Divine  life,  can  there  be  any 
hope  of  escape  from  materialism,  that  curse  of  the  age. 

THOMAS  G.  GENTRY,  Sc.  D. 
PHILADELPHIA,  FEBRUARY  28,  1897. 


CONTENTS. 


Preface I 

Life  and  Its  Conditions 9 

Plants  that  Feed  on  Insects 16 

Slime-Animals 32 

Primitive  Lasso-Throwers 36 

Five-Fingered  Jack  on  the  Oyster 41 

Earth-worms  in  History 48 

Fiddler-  and  Hermit-Crabs 70 

Funnel- Web  Builder 77 

Book- Lovers 86 

You-  ee-up 90 

Tower-Building  Cicada. «. 95 

Honey-Dew 104 

Milch-Cows  of  the  Ants 108 

Living  Artillery in 

Bright  and  Shining  Ones 115 

Queen  of  American  Silk-Spinners 121 

Basket-Carriers 126 

Honey- Producing  Caterpillars 132 

Hibernating  Butterflies 144 

Leaf-Cutter  Bee 149 

Battle  Between  Ants 153 

Nest-Building  Fishes 158 

Slippery  as  an  Eel 1 68 

Rana  and  Bufo 1 74 

Our  Natural  Enemies 186 

House-Bearing  Reptiles 198 

Summer  Duck 204 

American  Woodcock 210 

Piping  Plover 218 

Bob  White 222 

Ruffed  Grouse 230 

An  Old  Acquaintance 240 

American  Osprey 245 


6  Contents. 

PAGB 

Turkey  Buzzard 252 

Rare  and  Curious  Nests 263 

Strange  Friendship 279 

Nature's  Little  Store-Keeper 285 

Canine  Sagacity 290 

Feline  Intelligence 295 

Bright  Little  Cebidse 301 

Untutored  Man 309 

Living  Souls 316 

Consciousness  in  Plants 323 

Mind  in  Animals 344 

Life  Progressive 404 

Survival  of  the  Fittest 426 

Man's  Preeminence 469 

Future  Life 479 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS, 


PAGE 

Portrait  of  Author Frontis*piece 

Venus's  Fly-trap 20 

Round-Leaved  Sundew 25 

Protomy xa  Feeding 34 

Fresh-Water  Hydra 37 

Star-fish  Opening  an  Oyster 45 

Common  Earth-worms 60 

Fiddler-Crabs 72 

Warty  Hermit-Crabs 75 

Agalena  and  Her  Funnel-Web 79 

Lepismas  at  Work 88 

You-ee-up  in  His  Den 91 

Seventeen-year  Cicada 97 

New-born  Cicada * 99 

Dome-like  House  of  Cicada 101 

Blossom  of  Cucurbita 105 

Nest  of  Lasius 1 09 

Brachinus  Pursued  by  an  Enemy 112 

Common  Tiger  Beetle 117 

American  Luna  Moth 123 

House-builder  Moth 1 29 

Pseudargiolus  Butterfly 1 34 

Violacea  Butterfly 138 

Neglecta  Butterfly 142 

Mourning-Cloak  Butterfly 146 

Leaf-Cutter  Bee  at  Work 1 50 

Battle  Between  Ants 1 54 

Nest  of  Common  Sun-fish 159 

Black-nosed  Dace 163 

Common  American  Eel I72 

Rana  Clamata,  or  Green  Frog ; 177 

Common  American  Toad 181 

Northern  Rattlesnake 1 89 

Mother  Black  Snake '. *92 


8  List  of  Illustrations. 

PAGE 

Summer  Green  Snake 1 95 

Water  Snake 196 

Common  Box  Tortoise 201 

Summer  Ducks  and  Young 206 

American  Woodcock 214 

Female  Piping  Plover 220 

Home  of  Bob  White 225 

Ruffed  Grouse  in  Spring-time 235 

Mexican  Wild  Turkey 241 

Nest"  of  American  Osprey 247 

Female  Turkey  Buzzard  Dining 259 

Nest  of  the  Robin 264 

Red-winged  Blackbird's  Nest 266 

Double  Nest  of  Orchard  Oriole 268 

Female  Baltimore  Oriole 270 

Acadian  Flycatchers 272 

Long-billed  Marsh  Wrens *  .  274 

Golden-Crowned  Kinglets 275 

Lace  Hammock  of  Parula  Warbler 276 

Three-story  Nest  of  Yellow  Warbler 278 

Saw-whet  Owl  and  Chickaree  Squirrel 282 

Hackee,  or  Chipping  Squirrel 287 

My  Dog  Frisky . .  * 292 

Tom  on  Duty 297 

Jack  at  Dinner 305 

Australian  at  Home 311 

Representative  Life  of  Western  Asia .  319 

Seedling  of  Winter  Grape 325 

Tip  of  Radicle  of  Seedling  Maple 331 

Wonderful  Equine  Intelligence 347 

Papier-Mache  Palace  of  the  Hornet 353 

Unsolicited  and  Unlooked-for  Kindness 357 

Exhibition  of  Grandeur. 378 

Four  Orphaned  Robins 389 

Mated  for  Life 396 

Evidence  of  Conjugal  Affection 400 

Life  in  the  Primordial  Sea 410 

Carboniferous  Times 412 

Mesozoic  Flora  and  Fauna 415 

Palaeolithic  Men  Attacking  Cave  Bear 448 

Era  of  Mind  and  Heart 462 


FULL    PAGE    PLATES. 

From  Photographs  from  Nature  by  A.  RADCLYFFE  DUGMORE. 


Snapping  Turtles  Fighting , Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

Crab  Waiting  for  Food  Under  a  Rock 74 

Box-tortoise  Feeding  on  Fungus 200 

Woodcock  on  Nest  (showing  protective  coloring) 212 

Red-eyed   Vireo's  Two-Storied  Nest  With  Cow-bird's 

egg  beneath 264 

Long-billed  Marsh  Wren's  Nest 272 

Chipping  Squirrels  Feeding 286 

Wood  Thrush  Setting 402 


LIFE  AND  IMMORTALITY. 


LIFE  RflD  ITS  CONDITIONS. 


ALL  natural  objects,  roughly  divided,  arrange  themselves 
into  three  groups,  constituting  the  so-called  Mineral, 
Vegetable  and  Animal  kingdoms.  Mineral  bodies  are  all 
devoid  of  life.  They  consist  of  either  a  single  element,  or,  if 
combined,  occur  in  nature  in  the  form  of  simple  compounds, 
composed  of  more  than  two  or  three  elements.  They  are 
homogeneous  in  texture,  or,  when  unmixed,  formed  of 
similar  particles  which  have  no  definite  relations  to  one 
another.  In  form  they  are  either  altogether  indefinite,  when 
they  are  said  to  be  amorphous,  or  have  a  definite  shape, 
called  crystalline,  in  which  case  they  are  ordinarily  bounded 
by  plane  surfaces  and  straight  lines.  When  mineral  bodies 
increase  in  size,  as  crystals  may  do,  the  increase  is  produced 
simply  by  accretion.  They  exhibit  purely  physical  and 
chemical  phenomena,  and  show  no  tendency  to  periodic 
changes  of  any  kind.  Fossils  or  petrifactions,  which  owe 
their  existence  and  characters  to  beings  which  lived  in 
former  periods  of  the  earth's  history,  cannot,  though  made 
up  of  mineral  matter,  be  properly  said  to  belong  to  the 
mineral  kingdom. 

But  objects  belonging  to  the  vegetable  and  animal  king- 
doms differ  markedly  from  inert,  lifeless,  mineral  matter. 
Carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen  and  nitrogen  are  the  most 
important  of  the  few  chemical  elements  which  enter  into 


IO  Life  and  Immortality. 

their  composition,  and  these  elements  are  combined  into 
complex  organic  compounds,  which  always  contain  a  large 
percentage  of  water,  are  very  unstable,  and  prone  to  spon- 
taneous decomposition.  They  are  composed  of  hetero- 
geneous, but  related,  parts,  termed  organs,  the  objects 
possessing  them  being  called  organized  bodies.  Some  of 
the  lowest  forms  of  animals  have  bodies  whose  substance  is 
so  uniform  that  they  exhibit  no  definite  organs,  but  this 
exception  does  not  affect  the  general  value  of  this  distinc- 
tion. They  are  always  more  or  less  definite  in  shape, 
presenting  concave  and  convex  surfaces,  and  being  limited 
by  curved  lines.  When  they  increase  in  size,  or  grow,  as 
we  properly  term  it,  it  is  not  by  the  addition  of  particles 
from  the  outside,  but  by  the  reception  of  foreign  matter 
into  their  interior  and  its  consequent  assimilation.  Certain 
periodic  changes,  which  follow  a  definite  and  discoverable 
order,  are  invariably  passed  through  by  organized  bodies. 
These  changes  constitute  what  is  known  as  life.  All  the 
objects,  then,  which  fulfil  these  conditions  are  said  to  be 
alive,  and  they  all  appertain  either  to  the  vegetable  or  the 
animal  kingdom.  The  study  of  living  objects,  no  matter 
to  which  kingdom  they  belong,  is  therefore  conveniently 
called  by  the  general  name  of  Biology,  which  means  a 
discourse  on  life.  And  as  all  living  objects  may  be  referred 
to  one  or  other  of  these  kingdoms,  so  Biology  may  be 
divided  into  Botany,  which  treats  of  plants,  and  Zoology, 
which  treats  of  animals. 

Now  that  we  have  divided  all  organized  bodies  into  plants 
and  animals,  it  becomes  necessary  to  inquire  into  the  differ- 
ences which  subsist  between  them,  and  which  will  enable 
us  to  separate  the  kindred  sciences  of  Botany  and  Zoology. 
Nothing  was  thought  so  easy  by  older  observers  than  the 
determination  of  the  animal  or  vegetable  nature  of  any  given 
organism,  but,  in  point  of  fact,  no  hard-and-fast  line  can  be 
drawn,  in  the  existing  state  of  our  knowledge,  between  the 
animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms,  and  it  is  sometimes  difficult, 


Life  and  Its  Conditions.  1 1 

or  even  impossible,  to  decide  with  positiveness  whether  we 
are  dealing  with  a  plant  or  an  animal.  In  the  higher  orders 
of  the  two  kingdoms  there  is  no  difficulty  in  reaching  a 
decision,  the  higher  animals  being  readily  separated  from  the 
higher  plants  by  the  possession  of  a  nervous  system,  of  a 
locomotive  power  which  can  be  voluntarily  exercised,  and  of 
an  internal  cavity  adapted  for  the  reception  and  digestion  of 
solid  food.  No  so-called  nervous  system  or  organs  of  sense 
are  possessed  by  the  higher  plants,  although  some  of  them 
doubtlessly  manifest  conscious  and  intelligent  action,  nor 
are  they  capable  of  voluntary  changes  of  place,  nor  provided 
with  any  definite  internal  cavity,  their  food  being  generally 
fluid  or  gaseous. 

Descending  the  scale  to  the  very  bottom,  we  reach  a  class 
of  animals,  the  Protozoa,  which  cannot  be  separated  in  many 
cases  from  the  Protophyta  by  these  distinctions,  since  many 
of  the  former  have  no  digestive  cavity,  nor  the  slightest  trace 
of  a  nervous  system,  while  many  of  the  latter  possess  the 
power  of  active  locomotion.  As  to  external  configuration,  no 
certain  rules  can  be  laid  down  for  separating  animals  and  plants, 
many  of  the  lower  plants,  either  in  their  earlier  stages,  or  in 
their  maturity,  being  exactly  similar  in  form  to  some  of  the 
lower  animals.  This  is  the  case  with  some  of  the  Algae, 
which  resemble  very  closely  in  form  certain  Infusorian  ani- 
malcules. Again,  many  undoubted  animals,  which  are 
rooted  to  solid  objects  in  their  adult  state,  are  so  plant-like 
in  appearance  as  to  be  popularly  regarded  as  vegetables. 
The  Sea-firs,  and  the  more  highly  organized  Flustras  or  Sea- 
mats,  which  are  usually  considered  as  sea-weeds  by  sea-side 
visitors,  are  a  few  of  many  examples  that  might  be  taken 
from  the  so-called  Hydroid  Zoophytes.  No  decided  distinc- 
tion between  animals  and  plants  can  be  drawn  as  to  their 
minute  internal  structure,  both  alike  consisting  of  molecules, 
of  cells,  or  of  fibres.  Some  decided,  though  not  universal, 
differences  exist  in  chemical  composition.  Plants  exhibit  a 
decided  predominance  of  ternary  compounds,  or  compounds 


12  Life  and  Immortality. 

which,  like  sugar,  starch  and  cellulose,  are  made  up  of  the 
three  elements,  carbon,  hydrogen  and  oxygen,  but  are,  com- 
paratively speaking,  poorly  supplied  with  quaternary 
compounds,  or  those  which  contain  an  additional  element  of 
nitrogen.  Animals,  on  the  contrary,  are  rich  in  quaternary 
nitrogenized  compounds,  such  as  albumen  or  fibrin.  Still, 
in  both  kingdoms  we  find  nitrogenized  and  non-nitrogen- 
ized  compounds,  and  it  is  only  in  the  proportion  which  these 
sustain  to  each  other  in  the  organism  that  animals  differ  in 
any  way  from  plants. 

Before  the  invention  of  the  microscope,  no  independent 
voluntary  movements,  if  we  except  the  opening  and  closure 
of  flowers,  and  their  turning  towards  the  sun,  the  drooping 
of  the  leaves  of  sensitive  plants  under  irritation,  and  some 
other  kindred  phenomena,  were  known  in  plants.  Now,  how- 
ever, we  know  of  many  plants  which  are  endowed,  either 
when  young  or  throughout  life,  with  the  power  of  effecting 
voluntary  movements  apparently  as  spontaneous  and  inde- 
Dendent  as  those  performed  by  the  lower  animals,  the  move- 
ments being  brought  about  by  means  of  little  vibrating  cilia, 
or  hairs,  with  which  a  part  or  the  whole  of  the  surface  is 
furnished.  When  it  is  added  that  many  animals  are  perma- 
nently rooted,  in  their  fully-grown  condition,  to  solid  objects, 
it  will  at  once  be  apparent  that  no  absolute  distinction  can 
be  made  between  animals  and  plants  merely  because  of  the 
presence  or  absence  of  independent  locomotive  power. 

There  is,  however,  a  test,  the  most  reliable  of  all  that  have 
been  discovered,  by  which  an  animal  may  be  distinguished 
from  a  plant,  and  that  is  the  nature  of  the  food  and  the  prod- 
ucts which  are  elaborated  therefrom  in  the  body.  Plants 
live  upon  such  inorganic  substances  as  water,  carbonic  acid 
and  ammonia,  and  they  have  the  power  of  manufacturing 
out  of  these  true  organic  materials,  and  are  therefore  the 
great  producers  of  nature.  All  plants  which  contain  green 
coloring  matter,  technically  called  chlorophyll,  break  up 
carbonic  acid  in  the  process  of  digestion  into  its  two 


Life  and  Its  Conditions.  \  3 

constituents  of  carbon  and  oxygen,  retaining  the  former  and 
setting  the  latter  free.  And  as  the  atmosphere  always  con- 
tains carbonic  acid  in  small  quantities,  the  result  is  that 
plants  remove  carbonic  acid  therefrom  and  give  out  oxygen. 
Animals,  on  the  other  hand,  have  no  power  of  living  on 
water,  carbonic  acid  and  ammonia,  nor  of  converting  these 
into  the  complex  organic  substances  of  their  bodies.  That 
their  existence  may  be  maintained  animals  require  to  be 
supplied  with  ready-made  organic  compounds,  and  for  these 
they  are  all  dependent  upon  plants,  either  directly  or  indi- 
rectly. In  requiring  as  food  complex  organic  bodies,  which 
they  ultimately  reduce  to  very  simply  inorganic  ones, 
animals  are  thus  found  to  differ  from  plants.  Whilst  plants 
are  the  great  manufacturers  in  nature,  animals  are  the  great 
consumers.  Another  distinction,  arising  from  the  nature  of 
their  food,  is  that  animals  absorb  oxygen  and  throw  out 
carbonic  acid,  their  reaction  upon  the  atmosphere  being 
exactly  the  reverse  of  that  of  plants.  There  are  organisms, 
it  must  be  understood,  which  are  genuine  plants  so  far  as 
their  nutritive  processes  are  concerned,  but  which,  neverthe- 
less, are  in  the  possession  of  characters  which  could  locate 
them  among  the  animals.  Volvox,  so  abundant  in  our 
streams  during  the  proper  seasons,  affords  a  splendid  illus- 
tration of  the  truth  of  this  statement.  Plants,  which  are 
devoid  of  chlorophyll,  as  is  the  case  with  the  Fungi,  do  not 
possess  the  power  of  decomposing  carbonic  acid  under  the 
influence  of  sunlight,  but  are  like  animals  in  requiring 
organic  compounds  for  their  food.  Two  points  must  there- 
fore be  borne  in  mind  in  regarding  the  general  distinctions 
between  plants  and  animals  which  we  have  thus  briefly  out- 
lined, and  these  are  that  they  cannot  often  be  applied  in 
practice  to  ambiguous  microscopic  organisms,  and  certainly 
not  to  plant-forms  that  are  destitute  of  chlorophyll. 

That  life  should  manifest  itself  certain  conditions  are  essen- . 
tial,  but  some  of  which,  though  generally  present,  are  not 
absolutely  indispensable.     One  condition,  however,  seems  to 


14  Life  and  Immortality. 

be  very  necessary,  and  that  is  that  the  living  body  should  be 
composed  of  a  certain  material.  This  material,  which  forms 
the  essential  and  fundamental  parts  of  everything  living, 
whether  vegetable  or  animal,  is  technically  called  proto- 
plasm. Other  substances  than  it  are  often  found  in  living 
bodies,  but  it  is  in  protoplasm  only  that  vitality  appears  to 
be  inherent. 

But  whether  it  is  the  same  in  plants  as  in  animals  is  a 
matter  of  opinion.  One  thing,  however,  seems  reasonably 
certain,  and  that  is  that  it  is  the  medium  or  vehicle 
through  which  vital  force  is  made  manifest.  Used  in  its 
general  sense,  protoplasm  is  chemically  related  in  its 
nature  to  albumen,  and  generally  has  the  character  of  a 
jelly-like,  semi-fluid,  transparent  material,  which,  in  itself, 
exhibits  no  definiteness  of  structure.  When  heated  to  a 
certain  temperature  it  coagulates,  just  as  the  white  of  an 
egg  does  when  boiled.  Living  protoplasm  has  the  power  of 
movement,  of  increasing  in  size  or  of  maintaining  its  exist- 
ence by  the  assimilation  of  fresh  and  foreign  materials,  and 
of  detaching  portions  of  itself  which  may  subsequently 
develop  into  fresh  masses.  Though  protoplasm  be  present 
in  the  ova  of  animals  and  the  seeds  of  plants,  yet  there  is  no 
external  and  visible  manifestation  of  life.  There  is  in  them 
what  is  called  a  dormant  vitality,  which  may  remain  for  a 
long  time  unchanged,  until  altered  external  circumstances 
cause  the  organism  to  pass  into  a  state  of  active  life. 

Generally,  certain  external  conditions  must  be  present 
before  any  external  vital  phenomena  can  be  manifested.  The 
presence  of  atmospheric  air,  or  rather  of  free  oxygen,  is  in 
an  ordinary  way  essential  to  active  life.  Life,  that  is  its 
higher  manifestations,  is  only  possible  between  certain 
ranges  of  temperature,  varying  from  near  the  freezing 
point  to  about  120°  Fahrenheit.  As  water  is  a  necessary 
constituent  of  protoplasm  in  its  living  state,  so  it  becomes  an 
absolutely  essential  requisite  to  the  carrying  on  of  vital 
processes  of  all  kinds,  for  the  mere  drying  of  an  animal  or 


Life  and  Its  Conditions.  \  5 

plant  will,  in   most  cases,  kill   it  outright,  and  will  always 
bring  about  a  suspension  of  all  visible  life-phenomena. 

While  the  large  majority  of  living  beings  are  organized, 
or  composed  of  different  parts,  called  organs,  which  sustain 
certain  relations  with  one  another,  and  which  discharge 
different  offices,  yet  it  must  not  therefore  be  concluded  that 
organization  is  a  necessary  accompaniment  of  vitality,  or 
that  all  living  creatures  are  organized.  Innumerous  low 
forms  of  life,  so  low  that  they  occupy  the  very  lowest  place 
in  the  scale  of  animated  existences,  absolutely  exhibit  no 
visible  structure,  and  cannot,  therefore,  be  said  to  be  organ- 
ized, but  they,  nevertheless,  discharge  all  their  vital  functions 
just  as  well  as  though  they  possessed  special  organs  for  the 
purpose.  Concluding  our  theme,  we  are  forced  to  admit 
that  animals  are  organized,  or  possess  structure,  because 
they  are  alive,  and  not  that  they  live  because  they  are  organ- 
ized. By  carefully  comparing  the  morphological  and  physi- 
ological differences  between  different  animals  and  plants, 
naturalists  have  divided  the  entire  animal  and  vegetable 
kingdoms  into  a  number  of  divisions,  whose  leading  char- 
acteristics may  be  found  in  almost  every  text-book.  All 
that  we  promised  ourselves  when  this  work  was  first  thought 
of  was  a  brief  treatment  of  a  few  of  the  most  interesting 
life-forms  of  this  planet  of  ours  in  the  light  of  their  ways 
and  doings,  and  the  direction  of  human  thought  to  those 
traits  of  character  and  manifestations  of  conscious  intelli- 
gence which  fit  them  to  become  partakers  with  man  of  that 
new  life  which  awaits  him  beyond  the  grave. 


PltflflTS  THflT  FEED  OH  IHSECTS. 


PERHAPS  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  in  the  whole 
range  of  vegetable  creation  anything  more  curious 
than  the  carnivorous  or  flesh-eating  plants.  That  animals 
eat  plants  creates  in  us  no  emotion  of  curiosity,  for  this  is 
the  common  law  of  nature.  But  that  plants  should  devour 
animals  is  a  marvel  to  which  few  minds  uninitiated  in  science 
would  give  credence.  Though  these  strange  forms  of  vege- 
table life  have  been  known  for  about  a  century,  yet  it  has 
been  but  a  few  years  since  the  attention  of  naturalists  was 
first  specially  called  to  their  habits  and  character.  No  one 
has  probably  done  more  to  explain  the  life  and  operations 
of  the  flesh-eating  plants  than  Mr.  Darwin. 

For  centuries  strange  rumors  had  been  circulated  of  the 
existence  of  huge  plants  in  the  more  remote  and  unvisited 
parts  of  Asia  which  would  imprison  and  destroy  large  ani- 
mals and  men  that  would  venture  within  reach  of  their  great 
quivering  leaves  armed  with  hooked  spines,  the  flesh  of  the 
dead  victim  being  absorbed  into  their  structure,  but  all  these 
giant  flesh-eating  trees  or  plants  have  so  far  proved  to  be 
mere  myths.  Science  has  discovered,  however,  that  there  is 
some  foundation  for  these  exciting  fictions,  and  it  has  not 
been  obliged  to  go  to  the  distant  East  to  find  it,  for  flesh- 
eating  plants  are  by  no  means  uncommon  in  this  country 
and  Europe.  But  these  plants  confine  their  destructive  pro- 
pensities to  the  crawling  and  flying  insects  which  are  beguiled 
by  some  tempting  reward  to  rest  on  their  leaves.  Such  a 
strange  provision  of  nature  is  no  less  interesting  than  if  these 
plants  had  the  power  to  destroy  the  larger  animals,  for  it  is 


Plants  That  Feed  on  Insects.  17 

the  fact  itself  which  startles  the  attention  by  its  seeming 
reversal  of  natural  laws. 

No  better  example  of  carnivorous  plants  could  be  taken 
than  Dioncea  muscipula,  or  to  use  the  common  name,  Venus's 
Fly-trap.  It  is  a  species  that  is  indigenous  to  North  Carolina 
and  the  adjacent  parts  of  South  Carolina,  affecting  sandy 
bogs  in  the  pine  forests  from  April  to  June,  and  a  represen- 
tative of  the  Droseracece,  or  Sundew  Family.  One  cannot 
fail  after  once  seeing  it  of  becoming  impressed  with  its 
peculiar  characteristics.  It  is  a  smooth  perennial  herb  with 
tufted  radical  leaves  on  broadly-winged,  spatulate  stems,  the 
limb  orbicular,  notched  at  both  ends,  and  fringed  on  the 
margins  with  strong  bristles.  From  the  centre  of  the  rosette 
of  leaves  proceeds  at  the  proper  time  a  scape  or  leafless  stalk 
which  terminates  in  an  umbel-like  cyme  of  from  eight  to 
ten  white  bracted  flowers,  each  flower  being  one  inch  in 
diameter.  The  roots  are  small  and  consist  of  two  branches 
each  an  inch  in  length  springing  from  a  bulbous  enlarge- 
ment. Like  an  epiphytic  orchid,  these  plants  can  be  grown 
in  well-drained  damp  moss  without  any  soil,  thus  showing 
that  the  roots  probably  serve  for  the  absorption  of  water 
solely.  Three  minute  pointed  processes  or  filaments,  placed 
triangularly,  project  from  the  upper  surface  of  each  lobe  of 
the*bi-lobed  leaf,  although  cases  are  observed  where  four  and 
even  ten  filaments  are  found.  These  filaments  are  remark- 
able for  their  extreme  sensitiveness  to  touch,  as  shown  not 
only  by  their  own  movement,  but  by  that  of  the  lobes  also. 
Sharp,  rigid  projections,  diminutive  spikes  as  it  were,  stand 
out  from  the  leaf-margins,  each  of  which  being  entered  by  a 
bundle  of  spiral  vessels.  They  are  so  arranged  that  when 
the  lobes  close  they  interlock  like  the  teeth  of  an  old- 
fashioned  rat-trap.  That  considerable  strength  may  be  had, 
the  mid-rib  of  the  leaf,  on  the  lower  side,  is  quite  largely 
developed. 

Minute  glands,  of  a  reddish  or  purplish  color,  thickly  cover 
the  upper  surface  of  the  leaf,  excepting  towards  the  margins, 


1 8  Life  and  Immortality. 

the  rest  of  the  leaf  being  green.  No  glands  are  found  upon 
the  spikes  or  upon  the  foliaceous  footstalk.  From  twenty 
to  thirty  polygonal  cells,  filled  with 'purple  fluid,  constitute 
each  gland.  They  are  convex  above,  somewhat  flattened 
underneath,  and  stand  on  very  short  pedicels,  into  which 
spiral  vessels  do  not  enter.  They  have  the  power  of  secre- 
tion under  certain  influences,  and  also  that  of  absorption. 
Minute  octofid  projections,  of  a  reddish-brown  color,  are 
scattered  in  considerable  numbers  over  the  footstalk,  the 
backs  of  the  leaves  and  the  spikes,  with  a  few  on  the  upper 
surfaces  of  the  lobes. 

The  sensitive  filaments,  which  are  a  little  more  than  one- 
twentieth  of  an  inch  in  length,  and  thin,  delicate  and  taper- 
ing to  a  point,  are  formed  of  several  rows  of  elongated  cells, 
filled  with  a  purplish  fluid.  They  are  sometimes  bifid  or 
even  trifid  at  the  apex,  and  towards  the  base  there  is  a  con- 
striction formed  of  broader  cells,  and  beneath  the  constric- 
tion an  articulation,  supported  on  an  enlarged  base,  consist- 
ing of  differently  shaped  polygonal  cells.  As  the  filaments 
project  at  right  angles  to  the  surface  of  the  leaf,  they  would 
have  been  in  danger  of  being  broken  off  whenever  the  lobes 
closed  together  had  it  not  been  for  the  articulation,  which 
allows  them  to  bend  flat  down.  So  exquisitely  sensitive  are 
these  filaments,  from  their  tips  to  their  bases,  to  a  momentary 
touch,  that  it  is  hardly  possible  to  touch  them  even  so  lightly 
or  quickly  with  any  hard  object  without  causing  the  lobes  to 
close,  but  a  piece  of  delicate  human  hair,  two  and  a-half 
inches  in  length,  held  dangling  over  a  filament  so  as  to  touch 
it,  or  pinches  of  fine  wheaten  flour,  dropped  from  a  height, 
produce  no  effect.  Though  not  glandular,  and  hence  inca- 
pable of  secretion,  yet  the  filaments  by  their  sensitiveness  to 
a  momentary  touch,  which  is  followed  by  the  rapid  closure 
of  the  lobes  of  the  leaf,  assure  to  Dionaea  the  necessary 
supply  of  insect  food  for  all  its  wants. 

Inorganic  bodies,  even  of  large  size,  such  as  bits  of 
stone,  glass  and  such  like,  or  organic  bodies  not  containing 


Plants  That  Feed  on  Insects.  in 

nitrogeneous  matter  in  a  soluble  condition,  as  bits  of  cork, 
wood,  moss  for  examples,  or  bodies  containing  soluble  nitro- 
geneous matter,  if  perfectly  dry,  such  as  small  pieces  of  meat, 
albumen,  gelatine,  etc.,  may  be  long  left  on  the  lobes,  and  no 
movement  is  excited.  But  when  nitrogeneous  organic  bodies, 
which  are  all  damp,  are  left  on  the  lobes,  the  result  is  widely 
different,  for  these  then  close  by  a  slow  and  gradual  move- 
ment and  not  in  a  rapid  manner  as  when  one  of  the  sensitive 
filaments  is  touched  by  a  hard  substance.  Small  purplish, 
almost  sessile  glands,  as  has  already  been  stated,  thickly 
cover  the  upper  surface  of  the  lobes.  These  have  the  power 
both  of  secretion  and  absorption,  but  they  do  not  secrete 
until  excited  by  the  absorption  of  nitrogeneous  matter.  No 
other  excitement,  as  far  as  experiments  show,  produces  this 
effect.  When  the  lobes  are  made  to  close  over  a  bit  of  meat 
or  an  insect,  the  glands  over  the  entire  surface  of  the  leaf 
emit  a  copious  discharge,  as  in  this  case  the  glands  on  both 
sides  are  pressed  against  the  meat  or  insect,  the  secretion 
being  twice  as  great  as  when  the  one  or  the  other  is  laid  on 
the  surface  of  a  single  lobe  ;  and  as  the  two  lobes  come  into 
almost  close  contact  the  secretion,  containing  dissolved  ani- 
mal matter,  diffuses  itself  by  capillary  attraction,  causing 
fresh  glands  on  both  sides  to  begin  secreting  in  a  continually 
widening  circle.  The  secretion  is  almost  colorless,  slightly 
mucilaginous,  moderately  acid,  and  so  copious  at  times  in 
the  furrow  over  the  mid-rib  as  to  trickle  down  to  the  earth. 
But  all-  this  secretion  is  for  the  purposes  of  digestion.  Be 
the  animal  matter  which  the  enclosed  object  yields  ever  so 
little,  it  serves  as  a  peptogene,  and  the  glands  on  the  surface 
of  the  leaf  pour  forth  their  acid  discharge,  which  acts  like 
the  gastric  juice  of  animals. 

Now  as  to  the  manner  in  which  insects  are  caught  by  the 
leaves  of  Dioncza  muscipula.  In  its  native  country  they  are 
caught  in  large  numbers,  but  whether  they  are  attracted  in 
any  special  way  no  one  seems  to  know.  Both  lobes  close 
with  astonishing  quickness  as  soon  as  a  filament  is  touched, 


20 


Life  and  Immortality. 


VENUS'S  FLY-TRAP. 
How  It  Captures  Insects. 

and  as  they  stand  at  less  than  a  right  angle  to  each  other, 
they  have  an  excellent  chance  of  capturing  any  intruder. 
The  chief  seat  of  the  movement  is  near  the  mid-rib,  but  is  not 
restricted  to  this  part.  Each  lobe,  when  the  lobes  come 
together,  curves  inwards  across  its  whole  breadth,  the  margi- 
nal spikes  alone  not  becoming  curved.  From  the  curving 
inwards  of  the  two  lobes,  as  they  advance  towards  each 
other,  the  straight  marginal  spikes  intercross  by  their  apices 
at  first,  and  ultimately  by  their  bases.  The  leaf  is  then 
completely  shut  and  encloses  a  shallow  cavity.  If  made  to 
shut  merely  by  the  touching  of  one  of  the  sensitive  fila- 
ments, or  by  the  inclusion  of  an  object  not  yielding  soluble 


Plants  That  Feed  on  Insects.  2 1 

nitrogeneous  matter,  the  two  lobes  'retain  their  inwardly  con- 
cave form  until  they  re-expand.  The  re-expansion,  when  no 
organic  matter  is  enclosed,  varies  according  to  circumstances, 
a  leaf  in  one  instance  being  fully  re-expanded  in  thirty-two 
hours. 

But  the  lobes,  when  soluble  nitrogeneous  matter  is  included, 
instead  of  remaining  concave,  thus  containing  within  a  con- 
cavity, slowly  press  closely  together  throughout  their  entire 
breadth,  and  as  this  takes  place  the  margins  gradually  become 
a  little  everted,  so  that  the  spikes,  which  at  first  intercrossed, 
at  last  project  in  two  parallel  rows,  So  firmly  do  they  become 
pressed  together  that,  if  any  large  insect  has  been  caught,  a 
corresponding  projection  is  clearly  visible  on  the  outside  of 
the  leaf.  When  the  two  lobes  are  thus  completely  closed, 
they  resist  being  opened,  as  by  a  thin  wedge  driven  with 
astonishing  force  between  them,  and  are  generally  ruptured 
rather  than  yield.  If  not  ruptured,  they  close  again  with 
quite  a  loud  flap.  The  slow  movement  spoken  of,  excited 
by  the  absorption  of  diffused  animal  matter,  suffices  for  its 
final  purpose,  whilst  the  movement  brought  on  by  the  touch- 
ing of  one  of  the  sensitive  filaments  is  rapid,  and  thus  indis- 
pensable for  the  capturing  of  insects. 

Leaves  remain  shut  for  a  longer  time  over  insects,  especially 
if  the  latter  are  large,  than  over  meat.  In  many  instances 
where  they  have  remained  for  a  long  period  over  insects 
naturally  caught,  they  were  more  or  less  torpid  when  they 
reopened,  and  generally  so  much  so  during  many  succeeding 
days  that  no  excitement  of  the  filaments  caused  the  least 
movement.  Vigorous  leaves  will  sometimes  devour  prey 
several  times,  but  ordinarily  twice,  or,  quite  often,  once  is 
enough  to  render  them  unserviceable. 

What  purpose  the  marginal  spikes,  which  form  so  conspicu- 
ous a  feature  in  the  appearance  of  the  plant,  subserve  was 
unknown  until  the  genius  of  Darwin  solved  the  mystery.  It 
was  he  that  showed  that  elongated  spaces  between  the  spikes, 
varying  from  one-fifteenth  to  one-tenth  of  an  inch  in  breadth 


22  Life  and  Immortality. 

according  to  the  size  of  the  leaf,  are  left  open  for  a  short 
time  before  the  edges  of  the  lobes  come  into  contact, 
consequent  upon  the  intercrossing  of  the  tips  of  the  mar- 
ginal spikes  first,  thus  enabling  an  insect  whose  body  is  not 
thicker  than  these  measurements  to  escape,  when  disturbed 
by  the  closing  lobes  and  the  increasing  darkness,  quite  easily 
between  the  crossed  spikes.  Moderately  sized  insects,  if  they 
try  to  escape  between  the  bars,  will  be  pushed  back  into  the 
horrid  prison  with  the  slowly  closing  walls,  for  the  spikes 
continue  to  close  more  and  more  until  the  lobes  are  brought 
into  contact.  Very  strong  insects,  however,  manage  to  effect 
their  release.  It  would  manifestly  be  a  great  disadvantage 
to  the  plant  to  remain  many  days  clasped  over  a  minute 
insect,  and  as  many  additional  days  or  weeks  in  recovering 
its  sensibility,  inasmuch  as  a  very  small  insect  would  afford 
but  little  nourishment.  Far  better  would  it  be  for  the  plant 
to  wait  until  a  moderately  large  insect  was  captured,  and  to 
allow  the  little  ones  to  escape,  and  this  advantage  is  gained 
by  the  slow  intercrossing  of  the  marginal  spikes,  which, 
acting  like  the  large  meshes  of  a  fishing-net,  allow  the  small 
and  worthless  fry  to  pass  through. 

Touching  any  one  of  the  six  filaments  is  sufficient  to 
cause  both  lobes  to  close,  these  becoming  at  the  instant 
incurved  throughout  their  entire  breadth.  The  stimulus 
must  therefore  radiate  in  all  directions  from  any  one  fila- 
ment, and  it  must  also  be  transmitted  with  considerable 
rapidity  across  the  leaf,  for  in  all  ordinary  cases,  as  far  as  the 
eye  can  judge,  both  lobes  close  at  the  same  time.  Physiolo- 
gists generally  believe  that  in  irritable  plants  the  excitement 
is  transmitted  along,  or  in  close  connection  with,  the  fibro- 
vascular  bundles.  Those  in  Dionaea  seem  at  first  sight  to 
favor  this  belief,  for  they  run  up  the  mid-rib  in  a  great  bun- 
dle, sending  off  small  bundles  almost  at  right  angles  on  each 
side,  which  bifurcate  occasionally  as  they  stretch  towards 
the  margin,  the  marginal  branches  from  adjoining  branches 
uniting  and  entering  the  marginal  spikes.  Thus  a  continuous 


Plants  That  Feed  on  Insects.  23 

zigzag  line  of  vessels  runs  round  the  whole  circumference 
of  the  leaf,  while  in  the  mid-rib  all  the  vessels  are  in 
close  contiguity,  so  that  all  parts  of  the  leaf  seem  to  be 
brought  into  some  degree  of  communication.  The  presence 
of  vessels,  however,  is  not  necessary  for  the  transmission  of 
the  motor  impulse,  for  it  is  transmitted  from  the  apices  of 
the  sensitive  filaments,  which  are  hardly  one-tenth  of  an 
inch  in  length,  into  which  no  vessels  are  seen  to  enter.  Slits 
made  close  to  the  bases  of  the  filaments,  parallel  to  the  mid- 
rib, and  thus  directly  across  the  course  of  the  vessels,  some- 
times on  the  inner  and  sometimes  on  the  outer  sides  of  the 
filaments,  do  not  interfere  with  the  transmission  of  the  motor 
impulse  along  the  vessels,  and  conclusively  show  that  there 
is  no  necessity  for  a  direct  line  of  communication  from  the 
filament,  which  is  touched  towards  the  mid-rib  and  opposite 
lobe,  or  towards  the  outer  parts  of  the  same  lobe.  With 
respect  to  the  movement  of  the  leaves,  the  wonderful  discov- 
ery made  by  Dr.  Burdon  Sanderson,  and  published  in  1874, 
offers  an  easy  explanation.  There  is,  says  this  distinguished 
authority,  a  normal  electrical  current  in  the  blade  and  foot- 
stalk, which,  when  the  leaves  are  irritated,  is  disturbed  in  the 
same  manner  as  is  the  muscle  of  an  animal  when  contraction 
takes  place. 

After  contraction  has  endured  for  a  greater  or  less  time, 
dependent  upon  circumstances  which  we  do  not  well  under- 
stand, re-expansion  of  the  leaves  is  effected  at  an  insensibly 
slow  rate,  whether  or  not  any  object  is  enclosed,  both  lobes 
opening  in  all  ordinary  cases  at  the  same  time,  although 
each  lobe  may  act  to  a  certain  extent  independently  of  the 
other.  The  re-expansion  is  not  determined  by  the  sensitive 
filaments,  for  these  may  be  cut  off  close  to  their  bases,  or 
be  entirely  removed,  and  re-expansion  occur  in  the  usual 
manner.  It  is  believed  that  the  several  layers  of  cells  form- 
ing the  lower  surface  of  the  leaf  are  always  in  a  state  of 
tension,  and  that  it  is  owing  to  this  mechanical  state,  aided 
probably  by  fresh  fluid  being  drawn  into  the  cells,  that  the 


24  Life  and  Immortality. 

lobes  begin  to   separate  as   soon  as   the  contraction  of  the 
upper  surface  diminishes. 

Six  known  genera,  Drosophyllu'm,  Roridula,  Byblis, 
Drosera,  Dionaea  and  Aldrovanda  comprise  the  Droseraceae, 
all  of  which  capture  insects.  The  first  three  genera  effect 
this  purpose  solely  by  the  viscid  fluid  secreted  from  their 
glands,  and  the  last,  like  Dionaea,  which  has  already  been 
described,  through  the  closing  of  the  blades  of  the  leaf.  In 
these  last  two  genera  rapid  movement  makes  up  for  the 
loss  of  viscid  secretion.  But  of  all  the  genera  none  is  more 
interesting  than  the  typical  Sundews. 

Growing  in  poor  peaty  soil,  and  sometimes  along  the 
borders  of  ponds  where  nothing  else  can  grow,  certain  low 
herbaceous  plants,  called  Droseras,  abound.  So  small  and 
apparently  insignificant  are  they,  that  to  the  ordinary  observer 
they  are  almost  unnoticed.  But  they  have  peculiarities  of 
structure  and  nature  that  readily  distinguish  them.  Scattered 
thickly  over  their  leaves  are  reddish  bristles  or  tentacles,  each 
surmounted  by  a  gland,  from  which  an  extremely  viscid  fluid, 
sparkling  in  the  sunlight  like  dew,  exudes  in  transparent 
drops.  Hence  the  common  name  of  Sundew  by  which  the 
half-dozen  species  found  in  the  United  States  east  of  the 
Mississippi  River  are  known.  A  one-sided  raceme,  whose 
flowers  open  only  when  the  sun  shines,  crowns  a  smooth 
scape,  which  is  devoid  of  tentacles.  Drosera  rotundifolia, 
our  commonest  species,  has  a  wide  range,  being  indigenous 
to  both  Europe  and  America.  In  the  United  States  it  extends 
from  New  England  to  Florida  and  westward,  and  is  occa- 
sionally associated  with  Drosera  longifolia,  a  form  with  long 
strap-shaped  leaves,  but  whose  distribution  is  mostly  restricted 
to  maritime  regions,  from  Massachusetts  to  Florida. 

All  of  the  species  are  remarkably  similar  in  habits,  captur- 
ing insects,  and  digesting  and  absorbing  the  soft  parts,  a 
circumstance  which  explains  how  these  plants  can  flourish 
in  an  extremely  poor  soil  where  mosses,  which  depend 
almost  entirely  upon  the  atmosphere  for  their  nourishment, 


Plants  That  Feed  on  Insects.  2  5 

only  can  live.  Although  the  leaves  of  the  Droseras  at  a 
hasty  glance  do  not  appear  green,  owing  to  the  purple  color 
of  the  tentacles,  yet  the  superior  and  inferior  surfaces  of  the 
blade,  the  stalks  of  the  central  tentacles,  and  the  petioles 
contain  chlorophyll,  rendering  the  best  of  evidence  that  the 
plants  obtain  and  assimilate  carbon  dioxide  from  the  air. 
But  when  the  poverty  of  the  soil  where  these  plants  grow  is 
considered,  it  is  at  once  apparent  that  their  supply  of  nitrogen 
would  be  exceedingly  small,  or  quite  deficient,  unless  they 
had  the  power  of  obtaining  it  from  some  other  source.  From 
captured  insects  this  important  element  is  largely  obtained, 
and  thus  we  are  prepared  to  understand  how  it  is  that  their 
roots,  which  consist  of  only  two  or  three  slightly  divided 
branches,  from  one-half  to  one  inch  in  length,  and  furnished 


ROUND-LEAVED  SUNDEW. 
Leaves  Acting  as  Stomachs. 


26  Life  and  Immortality. 

with  absorbent  hairs,  are  so  poorly  developed.  From  what 
has  been  stated  it  would  seem  that  the  roots  but  serve  to 
imbibe  water,  but  there  is  no  doubt,  that  nutritious  matters 
would  also  be  absorbed  were  they  present  in  the  soil. 

With  the  edges  of  its  leaves  curled  so  as  to  form  a  tempo- 
rary stomach,  and  with  the  glands  of  its  closely-inflected  ten- 
tacles pouring  forth  their  truly  acid  secretion,  which  dissolves 
animal  matters  that  are  subsequently  absorbed,  Drosera 
may  be  said  to  feed  like  an  animal.  But,  unlike  an  animal, 
it  drinks  by  means  of  its  roots,  and  largely,  too,  for  it  would 
not  be  able  to  supply  its  glands  with  the  necessary  viscid 
fluid.  The  amount  needed  is  by  no  means  an  inconsiderable 
quantity,  as  two  hundred  and  seventy  drops  may  sometimes 
be  exposed  during  a  whole  day  to  a  glaring  sun.  Such  a 
profuse  exudation  implies  preparations  for  hosts  of  insect 
visitors.  In  this  Drosera  has  not  miscalculated.  Its  bright 
pink  blossoms  and  brilliant,  glistening  dew  lure  vast  numbers 
of  the  smaller  kinds,  and  the  larger  ones,  too,  to  certain 
death.  But  the  wholesale  destruction  of  life  that  goes  on  is 
much  in  excess  of  what  the  plant  requires  for  food.  While 
the  smaller  flies  remain  adherent  to  the  leaves,  affording 
them  the  needed  aliment,  the  larger  insects,  after  death,  fall 
around  the  roots,  where  they  decay  and  fertilize  the  soil  with 
nitrogen,  which  doubtless  through  the  proper  channels  makes 
its  way  into  the  body  of  the  plant,  thus  helping  to  give  it 
tone  arid  vigor.  There  are  times  when  these  plants  work 
better  than  at  others,  but  whether  this  is  caused  by  the  elec- 
trical condition  of  the  atmosphere,  or  the  amount  of  its 
contained  moisture,  is  a  question  which  science  has  not 
positively  determined. 

Drosera  longifolia  folds  it  leaves  entirely  around  its  victim, 
from  the  apex  down  to  the  petiole  after  the  manner  of  its 
vernation,  but  in  Drosera  rotundifolia,  whose  marginal 
tentacles  are  longer,  the  tentacles  simply  curve  around  the 
object,  the  glands  touching  the  substance,  like  so  many 
mouths  receiving  nourishment.  Experimented  upon  with 


Plants  That  Feed  on  Insects.  27 

raw  beef,  the  tentacles  of  healthy  leaves,  from  within  to 
without,  but  in  periods  of  time  varying  from  six  to  eight 
or  nine  hours,  clasp  firmly  the  beef,  almost  concealing  it 
from  view.  Equally  vigorous  leaves,  however,  made  no 
move  towards  clasping  a  bit  of  dry  chalk,  a  chip  of  flint,  or 
a  lump  of  earth.  Bits  of  raw  apple  cause  a  curving  of  the 
tentacles,  but  very  few  of  the  glands  are  seen  touching  them. 
It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  these  plants  are  really  carniv- 
orous, preferring  animal  substances,  which  they,  by  the  aid 
of  some  ferment  analogous  to  pepsin,  which  is  secreted  by 
the  glands,  are  able  to  absorb.  A  minute  quantity  of  already 
soluble  animal  matter  is  the  exciting  cause,  and  this  must 
be  taken  in  by  the  glands,  or  there  is  no  secretion  of  the 
fermenting  material. 

In  all  ordinary  cases  the  glands  alone  are  susceptible  to 
excitement.  When  excited,  they  do  not  themselves  move 
or  change  form,  but  transmit  a  motor  impulse  to  the  bend- 
ing part  of  their  own  and  adjoining  tentacles,  and  are  thus 
carried  towards  the  centre  of  the  leaf.  Stimulants  applied 
to  the  glands  of  the  short  tentacles  on  the  disc  indirectly 
excite  movement  of  the  exterior  tentacles,  for  the  stimulus 
of  the  glands  of  the  disc  acts  on  the  bending  part  of  the 
latter  tentacles,  near  their  bases,  and  does  not  first  travel  up 
the  pedicels  to  the  glands,  to  be  then  reflected  back  to  the 
bending  place.  Some  influence,  however,  does  travel  up  to 
the  glands,  causing  them  to  secrete  most  copiously,  and  the 
secretion  to  become  acid,  just  such  an  influence  as  that 
which  in  animals  is  transmitted  along  the  nerves  to  glands, 
modifying  their  power  of  secretion,  independently  of  the 
condition  of  the  blood-vessels.  Over  organic  substances 
that  yield  soluble  matter  the  tentacles  remain  clasped  for  a 
much  longer  time  than  over  those  not  acted  upon  by  the 
secretion,  or  over  inorganic  objects.  That  they  have  the 
power  of  rendering  organic  substances  soluble,  that  is,  that 
they  have  the  power  of  digestion,  is  no  longer  a  question 
of  dispute.  They  certainly  have  this  power,  acting  on 


28  Life  and  Immortality. 

albuminous  compounds  in  exactly  the  same  manner  as  does 
the  gastric  juice  of  mammals,  the  digested  matter  being 
afterwards  absorbed.  In  animals  the  digestion  of  albumin- 
ous compounds  is  effected  by  means  of  a  ferment,  pepsin, 
together  with  weak  hydrochloric  acid,  though  almost  any 
acid  will  serve,  yet  neither  pepsin  nor  an  acid  by  itself  has 
any  such  power.  It  has  been  observed  that  when  the  glands 
of  the  disc  are  excited  by  the  contact  of  any  object,  espe- 
cially of  one  containing  nitrogeneous  matter,  the  outer 
tentacles  and  often  the  blade  become  inflected,  the  leaf  thereby 
becoming  converted  into  a  temporary  cup  or  stomach. 
The  discal  glands  then  secrete  more  copiously,  the  secre- 
tion becoming  acid,  and,  moreover,  some  influence  being 
transmitted  by  them  to  the  glands  of  the  exterior  tentacles, 
causing  them  to  emit  a  more  abundant  secretion,  which  also 
becomes  acid.  This  secretion  is  to  a  certain  extent  antisep- 
tic, as  it  checks  the  appearance  of  mould  and  infusoria,  and 
in  this  particular  acts  like  the  gastric  juice  of  the  higher 
animals,  wrhich  is  known  to  arrest  putrefaction  by  destroying 
the  microzymes. 

With  animals,  according  to  Schiff,  mechanical  irritation 
excites  the  glands  of  the  stomach  to  secrete  an  acid,  but  not 
pepsin.  There  is  strong  reason  to  believe,  too,  that  the  glands 
of  Drosera,  which  are  continually  secreting  viscid  fluid  to 
replace  the  losses  by  evaporation,  do  not  secrete  the  ferment 
proper  for  digestion  when  mechanically  irritated,  but  only 
after  absorbing  certain  matters  of  a  nitrogeneous  nature.  The 
glands  of  the  stomachs  of  animals  secrete  pepsin  only  after 
they  have  absorbed  certain  soluble  substances  designated 
peptogenes,  showing  a  remarkable  parallelism  between  the 
glands  of  Drosera  and  those  of  the  stomach  in  the  secretion 
of  their  appropriate  acid  and  ferment. 

Not  only  animal  matter,  but  also  the  albumen  of  living 
seeds,  which  are  injured  or  killed  by  the  secretion,  are  acted 
upon  by  the  glands  of  Drosera.  Matter  is  likewise  absorbed 
from  pollen,  and  from  fresh  leaves.  The  stomachs  of 


Plants  That  Feed  on  Insects.  29 

vegetable-feeding  animals,  as  is  only  too  well  known,  possess 
a  similar  power  of  extracting  nourishment  from  such  articles. 
Though  properly  an  insectivorous  plant,  but  as  pollen,  as  well 
as  the  seeds  and  leaves  of  surrounding  plants,  cannot  fail  to 
be  often  or  occasionally  blown  upon  the  glands  of  Drosera, 
yet  it  must  be  credited  with  being  to  a  certain  extent  a  vege- 
table feeder. 

That  a  plant  and  an  animal  should  secrete  the  same,  or 
nearly  the  same,  complex  digestive  fluid,  adapted  for  a  simi- 
lar purpose,  is  a  wonderful  fact  in  physiology,  but  not  more 
remarkable  than  the  movements  of  a  tentacle  consequent 
upon  an  impulse  received  from  its  own  gland,  the  movement 
at  the  bending  place  of  the  tentacle  being  always  towards  the 
centre  of  the  leaf,  and  so  it  is  with  all  the  tentacles  when 
their  glands  are  excited  by  immersion  in  a  suitable  fluid. 
The  short  tentacles  in  the  middle  part  of  the  disc,  however, 
must  be  excepted,  as  these  do  not  bend  at  all  when  thus 
excited.  But  when  the  motor  impulse  comes  from  one  side 
of  the  disc,  the  surrounding  tentacles,  and  even  the  short 
ones  in  the  middle  of  the  disc,  all  bend  with  precision 
towards  the  point  of  excitement,  no  matter  where  it  may  be 
located.  This  is  in  every  way  a  remarkable  phenomenon, 
for  the  leaf  appears  as  if  endowed  with  animal  sense  and 
intelligence.  It  is  all  the  more  remarkable  when  the  motor 
impulse  strikes  the  base  of  a  tentacle  obliquely  to  its  flat- 
tened surface,  for  then  the  contraction  of  the  cells  must  be 
restricted  to  one,  two  or  a  very  few  rows  at  one  end,  and 
different  sides  of  the  surrounding  tentacles  must  be  acted  on 
that  all  may  bend  with  precision  to  the  point  of  excitement. 
The  motor  impulse,  as  it  spreads  from  one  or  more  glands 
across  the  disc,  enters  the  bases  of  the  surrounding  tentacles, 
and  instantly  acts  on  the  bending  place,  but  does  not  first 
proceed  up  the  tentacles  to  the  glands,  causing  them  to 
reflect  back  an  impulse  to  their  bases,  although  some  influ- 
ence is  sent  up  to  the  glands,  whereby  their  secretion  is 
soon  increased  and  rendered  acid.  The  glands,  being  thus 


30  Life  and  Immortality. 

excited,  send  back  some  other  influence,  dependent  neither 
on  increased  secretion  nor  on  the  inflection  of  the  tentacles, 
which  causes  the  protoplasm  to  aggregate  in  cell  beneath  cell. 
This  may  be  called  a  reflex  action.  How  it  differs  from  that 
which  proceeds  from  the  nerve-ganglion  of  an  animal,  if  it 
differ  at  all,  no  one  can  say.  It  is  probably  the  only  known 
case  of  reflex  action  in  the  vegetable  kingdom. 

Concerning  the  mechanism  of  the  movements  and  the 
character  of,  the  motor  impulse  little  is  known.  During  the 
act  of  inflection  fluid  surely  passes  from  one  part  to  another 
of  the  tentacles.  In  explanation  of  the  fact  it  is  claimed 
that  the  motor  impulse  is  allied  in  nature  to  the  aggregat- 
ing process,  and  that  this  causes  the  molecules  of  the  cell- 
walls  to  approach  each  other,  as  do  the  molecules  of  the 
protoplasm  within  the  cells,  thereby  causing  the  cells  in  all 
to  contract.  This  is  probably  the  hypothesis  that  best  accords 
with  the  observed  facts,  although  some  strong  objections  may 
be  urged  against  this  view.  The  elasticity  of  their  outer 
cells,  which  comes  into  activity  as  soon  as  those  on  the  inner 
side  cease  contracting  with  prepotent  force,  leads  largely  to 
the  re-expansion  of  the  tentacles,  but  there  is  reason  to  sus- 
pect that  fluid  is  continually  and  slowly  attracted  into  the 
outer  cells  during  the  act  of  re-expansion,  thus  augmenting 
their  tension. 

With  respect  to  the  structure,  movements,  constitution 
and  habits  of  Dionaa  muscipula  and  Drosera  rotundifolia,  as 
well  as  kindred  species,  little  has  been  made  out  by  patient 
study  and  investigation  in  comparison  with  what  remains 
unexplained  and  unknown.  Many  of  their  movements, 
especially  of  Dionaea  and  Drosera,  seem  so  sensible  and 
intelligent  that  the  reflecting  mind  of  man  can  hardly  hesi- 
tate to  assign  them  high  positions  in  organic  nature  and  the 
possession,  even  though  in  a  very  small  degree,  of  that  con- 
sciousness with  which  animal  life  is  endowed.  That  man  is 
psychically  related  to  all  life  is  the  belief  of  millions  in  the  old 
world,  and  the  hope  of  millions  in  the  new.  In  this  thought 


Plants  That  Feed  on  Insects.  3 1 

is  the  escape  from  materialism,  that  threat  of  the  ignorant 
and  unbelieving.  Higher  conceptions  of  beauty  and  greatness 
are  now  being  entertained  by  the  multitudes,  and  we  begin 
to  feel  that  the  next  great  step  is  being  taken  when  we 
shall  become,  instead  of  poor  trembling  denizens  of  a  perish- 
able world,  proud  and  conscious  citizens  of  an  imperishable 
universe.  That  we  of  the  upper  ranks  of  God's  creation 
alone  possess  an  inner  life  which  shall  transcend  all  change 
is  no  longer  a  general  belief,  but  there  is  a  growing  hope 
that  all  nature  shares  it,  and  that  love  is  its  expression  and  its 
method.  All  existence  is  a  unit.  Life,  law  and  love  are 
divine.  Man,  looking  calmly  about  him,  cannot  set  himself 
apart  as  something  essentially  different  from  nature,  but  must 
recognize  himself  as  a  part,  and  include  love  in  the  universal 
scheme  of  development.  All  other  expressions  of  life  must 
share  with  him  in  the  divine  love  and  progress.  His  dog- 
mas, founded  on  mistaken  traditions,  have  given  way  to 
science,  and  he  cannot  but  believe  that  love  is  in  and  of  the 
soul,  and  that  all  life  has  some  sort  of  development  of  soul. 
Because  plant-life  has  no  brain,  and  therefore  has  no  intelli- 
gence, no  mind,  no  soul,  is  preposterous  to  contemplate. 
Who  can  positively  affirm  that  brain  alone  is  the  seat  of 
conscious  intelligence?  None  but  He  alone,  the  Giver  of 
all  life,  who  sits  enthroned  and  exalted  in  the  everlasting 
heavens. 


T)OSSIBLY  the  simplest  of  life's  children  are  the  singu- 
J-  larly  unique  and  structureless  little  Finger  Slimes, 
which  live  not  only  in  the  sea  but  also  in  puddles  and  pools, 
and  in  the  gutters  of  our  streets  and  of  our  house-tops. 
Anywhere  that  stagnant  water  abounds  these  tiny  drops  of 
slime  will  grow  up  and  make  it  their  home.  Sometimes  few 
and  far  between,  and  sometimes  in  such  immense  crowds 
that  the  entire  pond  would  seem,  if  they  could  be  seen 
with  the  unaided  vision,  literally  alive  with  them,  they  live, 
and  multiply  and  die  under  our  very  feet. 

Nothing  can  be  less  animal-like  than  one  of  these  shapeless 
masses  of  pure  protoplasm,  yet  under  a  microscope  of  strong 
power  it  may  be  seen  moving  lazily  along  by  pulling  out  a 
thick  finger  of  slime  and  then  letting  all  the  rest  of  its  body 
flow  after  it.  When  coming  into  contact  with  food  it  may 
be  said  to  flow  over  it,  dissolving  the  soft  parts  and  sending 
out  the  hard,  indigestible  refuse  anywhere,  no  matter  where, 
for  its  body  is  devoid  of  skin,  being  merely  one  general  mass 
of  homogeneous  slime. 

But  what  can  these  little  slime  specks  tell  us  about  the 
wonderful  powers  of  life  ?  Nothing  at  all,  it  would  seem, 
for  in  these  tiny  creatures  life  has  nothing  better  to  work 
with  than  a  mere  drop  of  living  matter,  which  is  all  alike 
throughout,  so  that  if  broken  into  a  hundred  pieces  every 
piece  would  be  as  much  a  living  being  as  the  whole.  And 
yet  by  means  of  the  wonderful  gift  of  life,  with  which  the 
all-wise  Omnipotence  has  endowed  it,  this  slime-drop  lives, 
and  breathes,  and  eats,  and  increases,  shrinks  away  when  you 


Slime- A  nimals.  3  3 

touch  it,  feels  for  its  food,  and  moves  from  place  to  place, 
changing  its  shape  to  form  limbs  and  feeling-threads,  which 
are  let  into  the  general  organism  when  they  have  served  the 
purpose  of  their  existing,  only  to  be  succeeded  by  others  as 
short-lived  as  themselves  when  necessity  requires  their 
development. 

So  small  are  these  creatures  that  the  largest  specimen  will 
be  found  to  be  smaller  than  the  smallest  pin's  head.  Examine 
how  we  will,  there  will  be  found  no  mouth,  no  stomach,  no 
muscles,  no  nerves,  no  parts  of  any  kind.  The  animal  looks 
merely  like  a  minute  drop  of  gum  with  fine  grains  diffused 
throughout,  floating  in  the  water,  some  times  with  out- 
stretched arms,  and  at  other  times  as  a  simple  drop.  An 
analysis  of  the  matter  of  which  it  is  composed  shows  it  to 
be  much  the  same  as  a  speck  of  white-of-egg.  Yet  it  is  alive, 
for  it  breathes.  Kept  in  a  drop  of  water,  it  uses  up  the 
oxygen  it  contains,  and  renders  the  water  foul  by  the  carbonic 
acid  it  breathes  out.  The  arms,  so  necessary  in  the  procure- 
ment of  food,  can  be  drawn  in  and  thrown  out  when  and 
where  the  animal  chooses,  showing  that  some  option  is 
undoubtedly  exercised  in  the  matter.  Minute  jelly-plants, 
that  live  in  the  water,  and  even  higher  animals  than  itself, 
constitute  its  food.  The  presence  of  an  animal  with  a  shell 
does  not  deter  it  from  attack,  for  it  is  just  as  able  to  deal  with 
it  as  with  the  softer,  shell-less  kinds,  sucking  their  jelly-like 
contents,  and  discarding  the  empty,  innutritious  shells. 

Quite  as  interesting  among  the  Moners,  to  which  the  Finger 
Slime  belongs,  is  the  Protomyxa  aurantiaca,  a  shapeless  bit 
of  transparent  matter,  containing  merely  circulating  granules. 
Locomotion  is  effected  by  extending  the  body  into  pseudo- 
podia,  or  false  feet,  and  contracting  them.  Its  movement 
is  slow  and  gliding.  When  at  rest  it  appears  as  a  mere  lump 
of  jelly,  but  its  whole  demeanor  changes  when  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  living  animal  suited  for  food.  Fine  threads  imme- 
diately begin  to  shoot  out  from  all  sides,  which  fuse  about 
the  unsuspecting  prey,  while  all  the  little  grains  in  the  slime 


34  Life  and  Immortality. 


PROTOMYXA  FEEDING. 

course  to  and  fro.  For  five  or  six  hours  the  little  fellow 
hugs  closely  round  the  prey  until  it  has  become  thoroughly 
absorbed,  at  least  the  nutritious  parts,  into  its  body-mass, 
when  it  draws  itself  away,  or  back  into  its  original  place, 
leaving  by  its  side  the  skeleton  of  its  late  victim.  Without 
eyes  or  ears  or  parts  of  any  kind  it  knows  how  to  find  its 
food  ;  without  muscles  or  limbs  it  is  able  to  seize  it ;  without 
a  mouth  it  can  suck  out  its  living  body,  and  without  a 
stomach  it  can  digest  the  food  in  the  midst  of  its  own  slime, 
and  cast  out  the  parts  for  which  it  has  no  use. 

When  Protomyxa  has  become  a  burden  to  itself  it  divides 
itself  by  a  simple  process  of  fission,  each  part  being  complete 
in  itself,  or  it  assumes  a  thick  covering,  becoming  encysted, 
as  it  is  termed.  In  a  little  while  the  enclosed  mass  divides 
into  spheres,  the  cell-wall  bursts,  and  the  little  spheres,  which 
have  now  taken  on  a  sort  of  tadpole  shape,  float  out  upon 
the  water,  where  they  soon  assume  the  parent-form. 


Slime- Animals.  35 

Like  all  living  things,  these  M oners  have  a  desire  for 
food,  which  their  protoplasm  first  appropriates,  then  con- 
verts into  available  material.  They  thus  grow  and  increase 
in  size,  but  when  they  become  too  large  to  be  comfortable 
they  usually  split  into  two,  in  obedience  to  the  law  of  their 
being,  and  each  half  goes  its  own  way  as  a  living  animal.  This 
is  the  earliest  form  of  parentage,  the  simplest  form  of  repro- 
duction. Thus  yielding  to  this  necessity  of  a  separation  of 
one  into  more  than  one,  these  Moners  live  on  forever,  or  as 
long  as  the  earth  continues  to  support  life,  thus  becoming 
immortal  in  the  scientific  sense  in  which  the  term  is  used  to 
devote  a  continuance  of  the  physical  life  on  earth.  They 
only  and  their  nearest  relatives,  as  simple  in  structure  as 
themselves,  achieve  this  stupendous  result,  for  in  such  a 
division  of  their  entire  substance  they  know  no  loss,  no 
death  of  any  part,  violence  only  being  able  to  sunder  them 
from  life.  They  resolve  themselves  into  their  own  off- 
spring, and  nothing  perishes. 


PHUWITIVE 


EVERY  one  knows  that  the  long  cord  or  thong,  called  the 
lasso,  is  the  peculiar  weapon  of  the  South  American 
hunter.  Almost  from  his  earliest  childhood  the  young 
Gaucho  learns  to  amuse  himself  with  it,  and  as  soon  as  he 
is  able  to  walk  takes  great  pleasure  in  catching  young  birds 
and  other  animals  around  his  father's  hut,  hurling  the  long 
lash  with  such  dexterity  that  the  noose  drops  over  their 
bodies  and  brings  them  to  his  feet.  Did  we  wish  to  select 
from  among  all  the  denizens  of  life  the  most  brilliant,  grace- 
ful, and  sylph-like,  whose  very  life-histories  read  more  like 
the  romance  of  poetry  than  sober  reality,  we  would  choose 
those  which  might  be  appropriately  designated  the  lasso- 
throwers. 

Now  among  animals,  as  is  only  too  well  known,  any 
weapons  which  they  could  be  called  upon  to  use  must 
develop  in  their  own  bodies,  and  therefore  it  could  hardly 
be  suspected  that  a  simple  jelly-animal  could  be  provided 
with  a  lasso  ready  grown  in  its  own  flesh.  Yet  it  is  so,  for 
in  that  class  of  animals,  which  ranks  just  above  the  sponges, 
we  discover  a  weapon  of  this  kind  as  simple  and  as  deadly, 
and  far  more  wonderful  in  its  action  than  any  used  by  man. 

In  fresh-water  ponds,  attached  by  its  base  to  the  under 
surfaces  of  aquatic  plants,  may  be  found  a  very  small  animal, 
just  large  enough  to  be  seen  without  the  aid  of  a  lens,  usu- 
ally pale  green,  but  sometimes  of  a  brown  color.  This  is 
our  common  hydra,  technically  called  Hydra  fusca.  It  is 
nothing  more  than  a  tube  or  sac,  with  a  sucker  at  one  end 
to  hold  on  with,  and  a  mouth  at  the  other,  surrounded  with 


Primitive  Lasso-Throwers. 


37 


from  five  to  eight  hollow  tentacles  or  feelers,  which  opens 
into  a  central  cavity  or  stomach.  Firm  and  muscular  are 
the  walls  of  the  sac,  so  that  the  little  creature,  which  is  not 
fixed  permanently  to  whatever  it  is  found  clinging  to,  may 
stretch  itself  out  or  draw  back  as  its  own  volition  dictates, 
or  move  slowly  along  by  means  of  its  sucker,  or  float 
easily  or  contentedly  upon  the  water.  But  the  most  remark- 
able, as  well  as  the  most  interesting  thing  about  this  odd 
creature  is  the  power  which  it  possesses  of  overcoming  ani- 
mals more  powerful  and  active  than  itself. 


FRESH-WATER  HYDRA  MOORED  AND  SEARCHING  FOR  PREY. 

Groping  about  with  its  flexible  arms,  which  are  closely 
invested  with  fine  jelly-hairs,  with  which  it  seemingly  feels, 
or  attached  to  some  leaf  or  bit  of  floating  stick,  its  tentacles 
reaching  out  in  all  directions,  the  Hydra  instantly  paralyzes 
any  minute  insects,  young  snail  or  infusorian  that  touches  its 
feelers,  and  complacently  closing  its  arms  over  the  helpless 
victim,  carefully  tucks  it  away,  so  to  speak,  into  its  stomach, 
where  it  is  speedily  digested.  This  power  of  paralyzing  and 
thus  readily  capturing  active  living  creatures  is  due  to  the 


38  Life  and  Immortality. 

presence  in  the  skin  of  the  tentacles  and  body  of  what 
are  called  lasso-cells,  or  nettling-organs,  which  are  minute, 
transparent  cells,  so  small  that  two  hundred  of  the  largest 
would  occupy  but  the  distance  of  an  inch,  each  being  armed 
with  a  long  barbed  thread  coiled  up  within  its  walls.  This 
delicate  thread,  which  is  often  from  twenty  to  forty  times  the 
length  of  the  cell,  lies  bathed  in  a  poisonous  fluid,  and  only 
waits  for  the  cell-walls  to  burst,  which  they  do  when  the 
Hydra  touches  an  animal  swimming  near  it,  when  thousands 
of  these  little  barbed  cords  dart  into  the  victim,  quickly 
paralyzing  it  and  rendering  it  an  easy  prey  to  its  captor. 
All  Ccelenterates,  such  as  jelly-fishes  and  coral  polyps,  pos- 
sess these  nettl ing-organs. 

Thus  we  see  where  the  Hydra's  strength  lies.  He  has  no 
need  to  struggle,  for  his  victim,  penetrated  by  a  multitude  of 
darts,  and  made  powerless  by  the  poison  instilled,  becomes 
as  manageable  as  an  equal  bulk  of  inert  matter.  It  behooves 
the  little  creature  to  take  things  quietly,  for  a  cell  once  burst 
cannot  be  used  again,  and  he  is  therefore  compelled  to  wait 
until  a  new  one  is  grown  to  take  the  place  of  the  one  that 
has  become  exhausted.  So  he  patiently  bides  his  time  till 
his  victim  is  half-conquered,  when  he  draws  him  gently  into 
his  body.  He  lives  and  catches  his  food,  as  must  be  appar- 
ent, without  the  necessity  of  moving  very  far  from  the  place 
where  he  had  his  birth. 

All  the  summer  through  the  Hydra  puts  out  buds  from  its 
side,  which,  when  their  tentacles  have  grown,  drop  from  the 
parent-body,  and  settle  down  in  life  for  themselves.  But 
when  winter  comes,  and  before  all  life  has  become  extinct,  an 
egg  appears  near  the  base  of  the  tubes  of  those  that  are  living, 
and  these  eggs  lie  dormant  till  the  next  spring,  when  they 
are  hatched,  and  a  new  generation  of  Hydras  is  produced. 
Budding,  which  is  but  a  process  of  natural  self-division,  is 
carried  on  to  a  large  extent,  more  individuals  being  pro- 
duced in  this  way  than  from  eggs.  These  buds  are  at  first 
a  simple  bulging  out  of  the  body-walls,  the  bud  enveloping 


Primitive  Lasso-Thrmvers.  39 

a  portion  of  the  stomach,  until  it  becomes  constricted  and 
drops  off,  the  tentacles  meanwhile  budding  out  from  the 
distal  end,  and  a  mouth-opening  arising  between  them.  In 
the  Hydra,  the  Actinia,  and  other  polyps,  and  in  truth  in  all 
the  lower  animals,  budding  is  simply  due  to  an  increase  in 
the  growth  and  multiplication  of  cells  at  a  special  place  on 
the  outside  of  the  body.  As  in  the  vertebrates,  man  included, 
the  Hydra  arises  from  an  egg  which,  after  fertilization,  passes 
through  two  stages,  the  germ  consisting  at  first  of  two  cell- 
layers,  but  the  sexes  are  not  separate  as  in  the  marine  Hy- 
droids,  which  grow  in  colonies  that  may  be  either  male  or 
female. 

Like  some  other  animals  of  simple  structure,  the  Hydra 
is  capable  of  reproducing  to  a  most  wonderful  degree  when 
cut  into  pieces.  Divided  in  two,  each  becomes  a  perfect 
Hydra,  and  even  when  sliced  into  any  number  of  thin  rings 
each  ring  will  grow  out  a  crown  of  tentacles.  You  may 
split  them  into  longitudinal  strips  and  each  strip  will  event- 
ually become  a  well-shaped  Hydra.  Two  individuals  may 
be  fastened  together  by  a  horse-hair  and  in  a  short  time  they 
will  have  become  like  Siamese  twins,  but  there  will  never 
arise  the  slightest  disagreement  between  them.  A  Hydra 
turned  inside  out  will  readily  adapt  itself  to  the  change,  and 
in  a  few  days  will  be  able  to  swallow  and  digest  bits  of  meat, 
its  former  stomach-lining  having  now  taken  upon  itself  the 
condition  of  skin. 

Hydra  fusca  is  our  simplest  lasso-thrower,  and  the  only 
one  to  be  found  in  fresh  waters  in  this  country.  Such  a 
wonderful  and  deadly  weapon  is  his,  that  it  is  easy  to 
understand  how  his  numerous  relatives  in  the  wide  ocean 
have  made  good  use  of  the  weapon  with  which  nature  has 
provided  them,  and  secured,  under  all  kinds  of  shapes  and 
forms,  homes  and  resting-places  throughout  the  vast  waste 
of  waters.  From  the  Arctic  to  the  Tropics,  and  from  the 
shallow  seaside  pools  at  low  tide  to  the  fathomless  abysses 
of  the  ocean,  we  meet  the  lasso-throwers.  Now  in  the  form 


40  Life  and  Immortality. 

of  huge  jelly-fishes,  covering  the  sea  for  miles  and  miles, 
transparent  domes  by  day  and  phosphorescing  lights  by  night, 
and  now  as  tiny  balls  of  jelly,  glistening  by  millions  in  some 
quiet  bay  and  splintering  into  light  upon  the  beach ;  or  in 
the  form  of  living  animal-trees  waving  their  graceful  arms 
over  rocks  in  waters  deep,  or  creeping  like  delicate  threads 
over  shells  and  stones  and  seaweed  on  the  shore,  where 
they  often  lose  their  identity  and  are  mistaken  for  plants. 
There  is  scarcely  a  nook  or  cranny  in  the  bed  of  ocean 
where  these  tree-like  forms,  associated  with  the  beautiful 
sea-anemone,  whose  brilliant  crimson,  green  and  purple  are 
unmatched  in  color  by  gem  and  flower,  are  not  to  be  found. 
All  these  beautiful  creatures,  as  well  as  the  living  coral 
that  nestles  in  the  bosom  of  the  warm  Mediterranean  or  the 
sea  that  lashes  our  Southern  shores,  or  that  struggles  boldly 
against  Pacific's  waves,  are  lasso-throwers.  Ccelenterata^  the 
"hollow-bodied  animals,"  because  of  the  large  cavity  within 
their  bodies,  is  the  name  by  which  they  are  known  to  science. 
They  naturally  fall  into  two  families,  the  Hydrozoa,  or  Water 
Animals,  and  the  Actinizoa,  or  Ray-like  Animals,  our  little 
Hydra,  about  which  so  much  has  been  written,  being  repre- 
sentative of  the  former  and  the  Anemones  of  the  latter 
division. 


JflCK  OH  THE  OYSTER 


QUITE  as  infinite  in  number,  variety  and  form  is  the  life 
^^  of  the  sea  as  that  of  the  land.  But  of  all  marine  ani- 
mals, however,  there  is  none  more  curious  than  the  echino- 
derm,  a  name  derived  by  science  from  two  Greek  words, 
indicating  an  animal  bristling  with  spines  like  the  hedge- 
hog. These  creatures  are  sometimes  free,  but  quite  as  often 
attached  by  a  stem,  flexible  or  otherwise,  and  radiate  after 
the  fashion  of  a  circle  or  star,  or  are  of  the  form  of  a  star, 
with  more  or  less  elongated  arms.  They  are  covered  with 
shell-like  plates,  which  they  secrete  for  themselves,  and  are 
still  further  protected  by  spines  or  scales. 

Perhaps  the  most  common  of  the  echinoderms  is  the  Star- 
fish, or  Five-fingered  Jack,  as  it  is  called  by  sailors.  Who- 
ever has  spent  any  time  on  the  seashore  has  doubtless  made 
the  acquaintance  of  this  animal,  for  it  is  readily  distinguish- 
able by  its  shape,  its  upper  surface  being  rough  and  tuber- 
culous, and  armed  with  spine-like  projections,  while  the 
under  portion  is  soft,  containing  the  essential  organs  of  life 
and  locomotion. 

When  first  seen  stranded  on  the  shore  the  Star-fish,  by 
the  uninitiated,  is  thought  to  be  a  creature  incapable  of  move- 
ment of  any  kind.  But  this  is  far  from  being  the  case,  for 
in  its  native  element  it  moves  along  the  bottom  of  the  sea 
with  the  greatest  ease,  being  provided  with  an  apparatus 
specially  adapted  for  the  purpose.  Ordinarily  its  arms  are 
kept  upon  the  same  level,  but  in  passing  over  obstacles  that 
lay  in  its  path,  the  animal  has  the  power  of  raising  any  one 
of  its  several  arms.  Elevations  are  ascended  with  the  same 


42  Life  and  Immortality. 

ease  and  facility  as  progression  on  plane  surfaces  is  effected. 
Perforating  the  arms,  or  rays,  and  i-ssuing  from  apertures,  will 
be  found  large  numbers  of  membranous  tubes,  which  prove 
to  be  the  feet  of  the  animal.  Upon  careful  examination  the 
latter  will  be  found  to  consist  of  two  parts,  a  bladder-like 
portion,  resident  within  the  body,  and  a  tubular  outlying  pro- 
jection, ending  in  a  disk-shaped  sucker,  thus  showing  the 
feet  to  be  muscular  cylinders,  hollow  in  the  centre,  and  very 
extensible.  In  progression  the  animal  extends  a  few  of  its 
feet,  attaches  its  suckers  to  the  rocks  or  stones  and  then,  by 
retracting  its  feet,  draws  the  body  forward.  Like  that  of  the 
tortoise,  its  pace  is  slow  and  sure.  But  the  most  singular 
thing  about  this  singular  animal  is  its  manner  of  overcoming 
obstructions,  which  it  must  certainly  perceive,  judging  from 
the  preparations  to  surmount  them  which  it  makes  at  the 
opportune  moment. 

In  addition  to  organs  of  locomotion  Star-fishes  possess 
blood-vessels,  digestive  and  respiratory  apparatus,  and  a 
nervous  system  of  a  very  low  order,  an  inference  to  which 
its  seeming  capacity  of  enduring  vivisection  without  pain 
unmistakably  leads. 

Interesting  as  its  manner  of  progression,  even  under  the 
most  trying  circumstances,  must  be,  yet  there  is  nothing  in 
the  life  of  this  lowly-organized  animal  that  has  half  the  charm 
to  the  true  lover  and  student  of  nature  than  the  mother 
Star's  devotion  to  her  young.  Her  eggs  she  carries  in  little 
pouches  placed  at  the  base  of  the  rays.  When  emitted  through 
an  opening,  which  occasionally  and  unintentionally  occurs, 
the  mother  does  not  abandon  them  to  the  cruel  charities  of 
the  ocean  world,  but  gathers  them  together,  forming  a  kind 
of  protecting  cover  of  them,  very  much  like  a  hen  brooding 
over  her  chickens.  Her  actions  bespeak  an  anxiety  which 
could  only  be  born  of  an  affection,  as  real  and  sympathetic 
as  that  which  a  human  mother  feels  for  the  loss  of  any  of  her 
offspring.  No  matter  how  often  the  eggs  become  accident- 
ally scattered,  the  mother  does  not  grow  weary  of  her  charges 


Five-Fingered  Jack  on  the  Oyster.  43 

and  leave  them  to  themselves,  but  gathers  them  to  the  maternal 
fold  with  the  same  tender,  patient  solicitude  as  characterized 
her  first  efforts.  Confined  to  a  tank,  when  with  ova,  the 
mother  Star  has  been  known  to  traverse  the  entire  length  of 
the  vessel  until  she  has  found  and  recovered  her  scattered 
treasures. 

Reproduction  by  eggs  is  not  the  only  means  of  generation 
in  vogue.  In  common  with  other  sea  animals  the  Star-fish 
has  the  strange  capacity  of  detaching  one  or  more  of  its  arms, 
each  of  the  cast-off  members  becoming  in  time  a  perfect 
creature  of  its  own  kind,  while  a  new  arm,  fully  equipped  to 
perform  all  necessary  functions,  will  grow  out  in  place  of  the 
lost  member.  From  twelve  to  fifteen  weeks  are  required  to 
reproduce  a  lost  ray,  the  animal  meanwhile  seeming  not  the 
least  discontented,  but  acting  as  utterly  unconscious  of  any 
changes  in  its  anatomy. 

As  found  upon  the  shore,  Star-fishes  appear  dead  when 
really  they  are  alive.  Put  one  of  these  perfectly  still  creat- 
ures into  fresh  sea-water,  and  in  a  short  time  it  will  probably 
be  disporting  itself  as  freely  as  ever  it  did.  But  as  the  dead 
and  the  living,  when  stranded  by  the  tide,  present  nearly  the 
same  appearance,  some  certain  test  seems  necessary  to  dis- 
tinguish them  apart.  If  a  Star-fish  hangs  loose  and  limp,  it 
is  dead ;  but,  however  dead  it  may  look,  if  on  touching  it 
there  are  manifest  a  firmness  and  consistency  in  its  substance, 
one  may  feel  reasonably  sure  that  it  is  playing  the  'possum 
and  will  revive  when  placed  in  the  water.  Quite  as  certain 
a  mode  of  ascertaining  whether  your  starry  friend  is  living 
or  dead,  is  to  lay  it  upon  its  back,  when,  if  alive,  a  number 
of  semi-transparent  globular  objects  will  be  seen  to  move, 
reaching  this  way  and  that,  as  though  feeling  for  some- 
thing to  lay  hold  of  wherewith  to  restore  it  to  its  normal 
position.  These  globular  appendages  are  the  ambulacra,  or 
locomotory  organs,  seeking  to  acquire  this  end.  If,  however, 
no  movement  is  manifested,  you  can  wisely  conclude  that 
your  animal  is  dead. 


44  Life  and  Immortality. 

The  Star-fish,  not  unlike  all  other  animals  of  the  sea,  has 
an  appetite  that  is  never  satisfied:  Dinner  is  always  welcome. 
The  procurement  of  food  seems  its  chief  concern  in  life.  It 
is  a  scavenger  of  no  mean  importance,  keeping  up  an  inces- 
sant chase  after  all  kinds  of  dead  animal  matter,  and  thus 
largely  contributing,  it  is  probable,  towards  the  maintaining 
of  the  waters  of  the  ocean  in  a  state  of  purity.  But  its 
feeding  is  not  exclusively  restricted  to  decaying  matters. 
Any  species  of  mollusk,  from  the  humble  whelk,  not  more 
than  five-eighths  of  an  inch  in  length,  to  the  lordly  oyster, 
so  esteemed  by  epicures,  constitutes  a  dainty  tidbit.  No  more 
inveterate  ravager  and  brigand,  not  even  excepting  man 
himself,  have  the  oyster-beds  to  disturb  the  equanimity  and 
serenity  of  their  existence  than  the  audacious,  insinuating 
Star-fish. 

With  its  five  arms,  and  apparently  without  any  other 
organ,  this  comparatively  insignificant  little  being  accom- 
plishes a  work  which  man,  without  the  aid  of  extraneous 
appliances,  is  quiet  unable  to  execute.  It  opens  an  oyster 
as  deftly  and  effectually  as  an  expert  oysterman  would  do, 
and  that,  too,  without  the  habitual  oyster-knife,  and  swallows 
the  slimy  bivalve  in  the  same  manner  as  the  lords  of  creation 
do.  Man,  with  all  his  genius  and  skill,  were  he  deprived  of  all 
other  means  of  subsistence  than  the  oyster,  and  having  no 
implement  with  which  to  open  it,  would  be  severely  puzzled 
to  get  at  the  savory  morsel  shut  up  in  its  obstinate  valves, 
yet  the  Star-fish  performs  the  task  seemingly  without  the 
least  difficulty. 

How  the  Star-fish  manages  the  problem  was  at  first  a  mat- 
ter of  guess-work.  For  a  long  time  it  was  confidently 
believed  that  the  animal  waited  for  the  moment  when  the 
oyster  opened  its  shell  to  introduce  one  of  its  arms  into 
the  opening.  This  much  gained,  the  other  four  arms  were 
got  in  without  much  trouble,  and  the  whole  business  ended 
with  the  devouring  of  the  inmate.  This  belief  is  no  longer 
tenable.  Careful  observation  has  revealed  to  us  the  true 


Five-Fingered  Jack  on  the  Oyster. 


45 


STAR-FISH  OPENING  AN  OYSTER. 

inwardness  of  the  proceeding.  The  oyster  is  seized  between 
the  arms  of  the  Star-fish  and  held  under  its  mouth  by  the 
aid  of  its  suckers.  Thus  secured,  the  Asterias,  or  Star-fish, 
everts  its  stomach,  and  envelops  the  whole  oyster  in  its  in- 
terior recesses,  distilling  a  poisonous  fluid,  a  secretion  from 
its  mouth,  which  causes  the  oyster  to  open  its  shell,  when 
the  robber,  as  it  were,  crawls  in  and  takes  its  dessert.  In- 
credible numbers  of  oysters  are  destroyed  by  Star-fishes, 
but  the  oystermen  fail  to  see  that  their  own  barbaric  ignor- 
ance is  largely  to  blame.  Star-fishes  drawn  up  in  nets,  rakes 
and  dredges  in  immense  quantities  are  tied  into  bundles,  but 
the  cords  are  made  so  tight  that  the  pile  is  cut  in  twain,  the 
result  being  that  all  the  pieces,  when  afterwards  thrown  over- 
board, become  new  and  perfect  Star-fishes. 

Not  often  has  one  the  pleasure  of  meeting  with  these  ani- 
mals on  the  New  Jersey  coast,  but  yet  they  are  occasionally 
seen,  more  frequently,  perhaps,  in  the  North.  Asterias  bery- 
linus,  the  commoner  form,  is  a  fairly  large  species,  of  a  more 
or  less  greenish  color,  sometimes  waning  to  brown,  and 
roughly  covered  with  tubercles.  Its  five  arms,  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  each  of  which  is  situated  a  single  red-eye  speck, 


46  Life  and  Immortality. 

are  somewhat  irregularly  arranged,  and  not  rarely  one  is 
stumpy  through  breakage  or  unequal  development. 

When  a  Star-fish  is  alarmed,  or  finds  itself  in  strange  quar- 
ters, it  will  be  seen  to  curl  up  the  tips  of  its  rays,  and  there 
under  the  point  of  each  ray  will  be  found  a  thick  red  spot 
seated  on  the  extremity  of  a  nerve,  and  having  in  it  as  many 
as  from  one  hundred  to  two  hundred  crystal  lenses  sur- 
rounded by  red  cells.  With  such  a  highly-developed  eye, 
which  is  far  better  than  the  jelly-fish  enjoys,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  the  Star-fish  is  so  quick  in  discerning  food,  or  enrages 
the  fisherman  by  the  discovery  of  the  bait  which  he  had 
intended  for  other  animals,  for  it  turns  out  that  this  stupid- 
looking  Animal  is  more  wide-awake  than  it  is  given  credit 
for.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  beautifully  delicate  Star-fish,  called 
the  "  Lingthorn,"  a  soft  lid,  or  feeler,  hangs  over  the  eye-spot, 
which  gives  to  the  creature  a  curiously  intelligent  look,  but 
in  the  case  of  our  common  form  this  lid  is  notably  absent. 

From  all  that  has  been  written  it  must  be  evident  that  our 
first  walking  animal  is  by  no  means  a  poor  or  feeble  creature. 
He  has  a  chain  armor  woven  into  his  leathery  skin,  with 
sharp,  pointed  spines,  and  snapping,  beak-like  claws  to  pro- 
tect him ;  an  excellent  digestion  and  a  capacious  mouth 
to  feed  his  greedy  stomach,  and  a  fine  array  of  nerves,  quick 
feeling  and  eyesight,  and  a  wonderful  apparatus  for  moving 
over  the  ground.  When  it  is  added  to  all  these  possessions 
the  ability  to  close  over  the  wound  in  the  case  of  a  lost  ray 
and  the  growing  of  a  new  one,  we  see  that  his  powers  of 
living  satisfactorily  are  by  no  means  insignificant.  But  this 
curious  walking  apparatus  of  the  Star-fish  is  far  from  being 
perfect  in  all  his  relations.  They  do  not  all  walk  by  means 
of  suckers  any  more  than  all  sponge-animals  build  toilet 
sponge,  or  all  slime-animals  make  chambered  shells.  Sure, 
the  Rosy  Feather-stars,  for  example,  have  no  use  for  feet-tubes, 
as  their  lives  are  generally  spent  upon  the  rocks  or  nestled  in 
bunches  of  sea-weed.  Brittle-stars,  as  these  are  called, 
though  closely  related  to  the  Star-fishes,  are  not  easily 


Five-Fingered  Jack  on  the  Oyster.  47 

confounded  with  them,  for  their  arms  are  found  to  radiate  from 
a  clearly  defined  central  disk,  and  there  is  no  prolongation  of 
their  stomachs  and  ovaries  into  their  interiors.  The  tube- 
feet  pass  out  from  the  plates  along  the  sides  of  the  arms, 
instead  of  from  the  under  surface  as  in  the  Star-fishes  proper, 
and  probably  serve  merely  as  a  help  for  breathing,  locomo- 
tion over  the  sands  being  effected  by  their  long  flexible  arms. 
Their  home  is  chiefly  among  the  tangle  and  eel-grass,  where 
their  protecting  covering  affords  them  security  from  their 
many  enemies. 


HISTORY. 


EARTH-WORMS  are  found  throughout  the  world. 
Though  few  in  genera,  and  not  many  in  species,  yet 
they  make  up  in  individual  numbers,  for  it  has  been  esti- 
mated that  they  average  about  one  hundred  thousand  to  the 
acre.  Our  American  species  have  never  been  monographed, 
which  renders  it  impossible  to  judge  of  their  probable  num- 
ber. Their  castings  may  be  seen  on  commons,  so  as  to 
cover  almost  entirely  their  surface,  where  the  soil  is  poor 
and  the  grass  short  and  thin,  and  they  are  almost  as  numer- 
ous in  some  of  our  parks  where  the  grass  grows  well  and 
the  soil  appears  rich.  Even  on  the  same  piece  of  ground 
worms  are  much  more  frequent  in  some  places  than  in  others, 
although  no  visible  difference  in  the  nature  of  the  soil  is 
manifest.  They  abound  in  paved  court-yards  contiguous  to 
houses,  and  on  the  sidewalks  in  country  towns,  and  instances 
have  been  reported  where  they  have  burrowed  through  the 
floors  of  very  damp  cellars. 

Beneath  large  trees  few  castings  can  be  found  during  cer- 
tain parts  of  the  year,  and  this  is  apparently  due  to  the 
moisture  having  been  sucked  out  of  the  ground  by  the  in- 
numerable roots  of  the  trees,  an  explanation  which  seems  to 
be  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  such  places  may  be  observed 
covered  with  castings  after  the  heavy  autumnal  rains. 
Although  most  coppices  and  woods  support  large  numbers 
of  worms,  yet  in  forests  of  certain  kinds  of  tree-growths, 
where  the  ground  beneath  is  destitute  of  vegetation,  not  a 
casting  is  seen  over  wide  reaches  of  ground,  even  during  the 
autumn.  In  mountainous  districts  worms  are  mostly  rare,  it 


Earth-  Worms  in  History.  49 

would  seem,  a  circumstance  which  is  perhaps  owing  to  the 
close  proximity  of  the  subjacent  rocks,  into  which  it  is 
impossible  for  them  to  burrow  during  the  winter,  so  as  to 
escape  being  frozen.  But  there  are  some  exceptions  to  this 
rule,  for  they  have  been  found  at  great  altitudes  in  certain 
parts  of  the  world,  and  especially  is  this  so  in  India,  where 
they  have  been  observed  to  be  quite  numerous  upon  the 
mountains. 

Though  in  one  sense  semi-aquatic  animals,  like  the  other 
members  of  the  great  class  of  Annelids  to  which  they  belong, 
yet.it  cannot  be  denied  that  earth-worms  are  terrestrial 
creatures.  Their  exposure  to  the  dry  air  of  a  room  for  a 
single  night  proves  fatal  to  them,  while  on  the  other  hand 
they  have  been  kept  alive  for  nearly  four  months  completely 
submerged  in  water.  During  the  summer,  when  the  ground 
is  dry,  they  penetrate  to  a  great  depth  and  cease  to  work, 
just  as  they  do  in  winter  when  the  ground  is  frozen.  They 
are  nocturnal  in  their  habits,  and  may  be  seen  crawling 
about  in  large  numbers  at  night,  but  generally  with  their 
tails  still  inserted  in  their  burrows.  By  the  expansion  of 
this  part  of  the  body,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  short  reflexed 
bristles  with  which  they  are  armed  inferiorly,  they  hold  so 
securely  that  they  can  seldom  be  withdrawn  from  the 
ground  without  being  torn  in  pieces.  But  during  the  day, 
except  at  the  time  of  pairing,  when  those  which  inhabit 
adjoining  burrows  expose  the  greater  part  of  their  bodies 
for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  early  morning,  they  remain  in 
their  burrows.  Sick  individuals,  whose  illness  is  caused  by 
the  parasitic  larvae  of  a  fly,  must  also  be  excepted,  as  they 
wander  about  durfng  the  day  and  die  on  the  surface.  Aston- 
ishing numbers  of  dead  worms  may  sometimes  be  seen  lying 
on  the  ground  after  a  heavy  rain  succeeding  dry  weather,  no 
less  than  a  half-hundred  in  a  space  of  a  few  square  yards, 
but  these  are  doubtless  worms  that  were  already  sick, 
whose  deaths  were  merely  hastened  by  the  ground  being 
flooded,  for '  if  they  had  been  drowned  it  is  probable,  from 


50  Life  and  Immortality. 

the  facts  already  given,  that  they  would  have  perished  in 
their  burrows. 

After  there  has  been  a  heavy  rain  the  film  of  mud  or  of 
very  fine  sand  to  be  seen  over  gravel-walks  in  the  morning 
is  often  distinctly  marked  with  the  tracks  of  worms.  From 
May  to  August,  inclusive,  this  has  been  noticed  when  the 
months  have  been  wet.  Very  few  dead  worms  are  anywhere 
to  be  seen  on  these  occasions,  although  the  walks  are 
marked  with  innumerable  tracks,  five  tracks  often  being 
counted  crossing  a  space  of  only  an  inch  square,  which 
could  be  traced  either  to  or  from  the  mouths  of  the  burrows 
in  the  gravel- walks  'for  distances  varying  from  three  to 
fifteen  yards,  but  no  two  tracks  being  seen  to  lead  to  the 
same  burrow.  It  is  not  likely,  from  what  is  known  of  the 
sense-organs  of  these  animals,  that  a  worm  could  find  its 
way  back  to  its  burrow  after  having  once  left  it.  They 
leave  their  burrows,  it  would  seem,  on  a  voyage  of  discovery, 
and  thus  they  find  new  sites  for  the  exercise  of  their  powers. 
For  hours  together  they  may  often  be  seen  lying  almost 
motionless  beneath  the  mouths  of  their  burrows.  But  let 
the  ejected  earth  or  rubbish  over  their  burrows  be  suddenly 
removed  and  the  end  of  the  worm's  body  may  be  seen 
rapidly  retreating. 

This  habit  of  lying  near  the  surface  leads  to  their  destruc-* 
tion  to  an  immense  extent,  for,  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year, 
the  robins  and  blackbirds  that  visit  our  lawns  in  the  country 
may  be  observed  drawing  out  of  their  holes  an  astonishing 
number  of  worms,  which  could  not  be  done  unless  they  lay 
close  to  the  surface.  But  what  brings  the  worms  to  the  sur- 
face ?  This  is  a  question  whose  answer  cannot  be  positively 
asserted.  It  is  not  probable  that  they  behave  in  this  manner 
for  the  purpose  of  breathing  fresh  air,  for  it  has  been  seen 
that  they  can  live  a  long  time  under  water.  That  they  are 
there  for  the  sake  of  warmth,  especially  in  the  morning,  is  a 
more  reasonable  supposition,  which  seems  to  be  confirmed 
by  the  fact  that  they  often  coat  the  mouths  of  their  burrows 


Earth-  Worms  in  History.  5 1 

with  leaves,  apparently  to  prevent  their  bodies  from  coming 
into  contact  with  the  cold,  damp  earth,  and  by  the  still  other 
fact  that  they  completely  close  their  burrows  during  the 
winter. 

Some  remarks  about  the  structure  of  the  earth-worm  now 
appear  apropos.  Its  body  consists  of  from  one  hundred  to 
two  hundred  almost  cylindrical  rings,  each  provided  with 
minute  bristles.  The  muscular  system  is  well  developed, 
thus  enabling  these  animals  to  crawl  backwards  as  well  as 
forwards,  and  to  retreat  by  the  help  of  their  affixed  tails  into 
their  burrows  with  extraordinary  rapidity.  Situated  at  the 
anterior  end  of  the  body  is  the  mouth.  It  is  furnished  with 
a  little  projection,  variously  called  the  lobe  or  lip,  which  is 
used  for  prehension.  Behind  the  mouth,  internally  located, 
is  a  strong  pharynx,  which  is  pushed  forwards  when  the 
animal  eats,  corresponding,  it  is  said,  with  the  protrudable 
trunk  of  other  Annelids.  The  pharynx  conducts  to  the 
oesophagus,  on  each  side  of  the  lower  part  of  which  are 
placed  three  pairs  of  large  glands,  called  calciferous  glands, 
whose  function  is  the  secretion  of  carbonate  of  lime.  These 
glands  are  very  remarkable  organs,  and  their  like  is  not  to 
be  found  in  any  other  animal.  Their  use  is  connected  in 
some  way  with  the  process  of  digestion.  The  oesophagus, 
in  most  of  the  species,  is  enlarged  into  a  crop  in  front  of  the 
gizzard.  This  latter  organ  is  lined  with  a  smooth,  thick 
chitinous  membrane,  and  is  surrounded  by  weak,  longitudi- 
nal, but  powerful  transverse  muscles,  whose  energetic  action 
is  most  effectual  in  the  trituration  of  the  food,  for  these  worms 
possess  no  jaws,  or  teeth  of  any  kind.  Grains  of  sand  and 
small  stones,  from  the  one-twentieth  to  the  one-tenth  of  an 
inch  in  size,  are  found  in  their  gizzards  and  intestines,  and 
these  little  stones,  independently  of  those  swallowed  while 
excavating  their  burrows,  most  probably  serve,  like  mill- 
stones, to  triturate  their  food.  The  gizzard  opens  into  the 
intestine — a  most  remarkable  structure,  an  intestine  within 
an  intestine — which  runs  in  a  straight  line  to  the  vent  at  the 


5  2  Life  and  Immortality. 

posterior  end  of  the  body.  But  this  curious  structure,  as 
shown  by  Claparede,  merely  consists  of  a  deep  longitudinal 
involution  of  the  walls  of  the  intestine,  by  which  means  an 
extensive  absorbent  surface  is  secured. 

Worms  have  a  well-developed  circulating  system.  Their 
breathing  is  effected  by  the  skin,  and  so  they  do  not  possess 
any  special  respiratory  apparatus.  Each  individual  unites 
the  two  sexes  in  its  own  body,  but  two  individuals  pair 
together.  The  nervous  system  is  fairly  well  developed,  the 
two  nearly  confluent  cerebral  ganglia  being  situated  very 
close  to  the  anterior  extremity  of  the  body. 

Being  destitute  of  eyes,  we  would  naturally  conclude  that 
worms  were  quite  insensible  to  light ;  but  from  many  experi- 
ments that  have  been  made  by  Darwin,  Hofmeister  and 
others,  it  is  evident  that  light  affects  them,  but  only  by  its 
intensity  and  duration.  It  is  the  anterior  extremity  of  the 
body,  where  the  cerebral  ganglia  lie,  that  is  affected,  for  if 
this  part  is  shaded  and  other  parts  of  the  body  are  illumi- 
nated no  effect  will  be  produced.  As  these  animals  have  no 
eyes,  it  is  probable  that  the  light  passes  through  their  skins 
and  excites  in  some  manner  their  cerebral  ganglia.  When 
worms  are  employed  in  dragging  leaves  into  their  burrows 
or  in  eating  them,  and  even  during  the  brief  intervals  of  rest 
from  their  labors,  they  either  do  not  perceive  the  light  or  are 
regardless  of  it,  and  this  is  even  the  case  when  the  light  is 
concentrated  upon  them  through  a  large  lens.  Paired  indi- 
viduals will  remain  for  an  hour  or  two  together  out  of  their 
burrows,  fully  exposed  to  the  morning  light,  but  it  appears, 
from  what  some  writers  have  said,  that  a  light  will  occasion- 
ally cause  paired  individuals  to  separate.  When  a  worm  is 
suddenly  illuminated  and  dashes  into  its  burrow,  one  is  led 
to  look  at  the  action  as  a  reflex  one,  the  irritation  of  the 
cerebral  ganglia  apparently  causing  certain  muscles  to  con- 
tract in  an  inevitable  manner,  without  the  exercise  of  the 
will  or  consciousness  of  the  animal,  as  though  it  was  an 
automaton.  But  the  different  effect  which  a  light  produces 


Earth-  Worms  in  History.  5  3 

on  different  occasions,  and  especially  the  fact  that  a  worm 
when  in  any  way  occupied,  no  matter  what  set  of  muscles 
and  ganglia  may  be  brought  into  play,  is  often  regardless  of 
light,  are  antagonistic  to  the  view  of  the  sudden  withdrawal 
being  a  simple  reflex  action.  With  the  higher  animals,  when 
close  attention  to  some  object  leads  to  the  disregard  of  the 
impressions  which  other  objects  must  be  producing  upon 
them,  we  ascribe  this  to  their  attention  being  then  absorbed, 
and  attention  necessarily  implies  the  presence  of  mind. 
Although  worms  cannot  be  said  to  possess  the  power  of 
vision,  yet  their  sensitiveness  to  light  enables  them  to  dis- 
criminate between  day  and  night,  and  thus  they  escape  the 
attacks  of  the  many  diurnal  animals  that  would  prey  upon 
them.  They  are  less  sensitive  to  a  moderate  radiant  heat 
than  to  a  bright  light,  as  repeated  experiments  have  con- 
clusively shown ;  and  their  disinclination  to  leave  their 
burrows  during  a  frost  proves  that  they  are  sensitive  to  a 
low  temperature. 

Investigation  fails  to  locate  in  worms  any  organ  of  hear- 
ing, from  which  must  be  concluded  that  they  are  insensible 
to  sounds.  The  shrill  notes  of  a  metallic  whistle  sounded 
near  them,  and  the  deepest  and  loudest  tones  of  a  bassoon, 
failed  to  awaken  the  least  notice.  Although  indifferent  to 
modulations  in  the  air,  audible  to  human  ears,  yet  they  are 
extremely  sensitive  to  vibrations  in  any  solid  object.  Even 
the  light  and  delicate  tread  of  a  robin  affrights  and  sends 
them  deep  into  their  burrows.  It  has  been  said  that  if  the 
ground  is  beaten,  or  otherwise  made  to  tremble,  that  worms 
believe  they  are  pursued  by  a  mole  and  leave  their  burrows, 
but  this  does  not  stand  the  test  of  experiment,  for  the  writer 
has  frequently  beaten  the  ground  in  many  places  where  these 
creatures  abounded,  but  not  one  emerged.  A  worm's  entire 
body  is  sensitive  to  contact,  the  slightest  puff  of  air  from  the 
mouth  causing  an  instant  retreat.  When  a  worm  first  comes 
out  of  its  burrow  it  generally  moves  the  much-extended 
anterior  extremity  of  its  body  from  side  to  side  in  all 


54  Life  and  Immortality. 

directions,  apparently  as  an  object  of  touch,  and  there  is  good 
reason  to  believe  that  they  are  thus  enabled  to  gain  a  general 
knowledge  of  the  form  of  an  object.  Touch,  including  in 
this  term  the  perception  of  a  vibration,  seems  much  the  most 
highly  developed  of  all  their  senses.  The  sense  of  smell  is 
quite  feeble,  and  is  apparently  confined  to  the  perception  of 
certain  odors.  They  are  quite  indifferent  to  the  human 
breath,  even  when  tainted  by  tobacco,  or  to  a  pellet  of  cotton- 
wool with  a  few  drops  of  Millefleur's  perfume  when  held  by 
pincers  and  moved  about  within  a  few  inches  of  them.  The 
perception  of  such  an  unnatural  odor  would  be  of  no  service 
to  them.  Now,  as  such  timid  creatures  would  almost  cer- 
tainly exhibit  some  signs  of  any  new  impression,  we  may 
reasonably  conclude  that  they  did  not  perceive  these  odors. 
But  when  cabbage  leaves  and  pieces  of  onion  were  employed, 
both  of  which  are  devoured  with  much  relish  by  worms,  the 
result  was  different.  These,  with  bits  of  fresh  raw  meat,  have 
been  buried  in  pots  beneath  one-fourth  of  an  inch  of  common 
garden  soil,  or  sometimes  laid  on  pieces  of  tin  foil  in  the 
earth,  the  ground  being  pressed  down  slightly,  so  as  not  to 
prevent  the  emission  of  any  odor,  and  yet  they  were  always 
discovered  by  the  worms  that  were  placed  in  the  pots,  and 
removed  after  varying  periods  of  time.  These  facts  indicate 
that  worms  possess  some  power  of  smell,  and  that  they  dis- 
cover by  this  means  odoriferous  and  much-coveted  kinds  of 
food. 

That  all  animals  which  feed  on  various  substances  possess 
the  sense  of  taste,  is  a  wise  presumption.  This  is  certainly 
the  case  with  worms.  Cabbage  leaves  are  much  liked  by 
worms,  and  it  would  seem  that  they  are  able  to  distinguish 
between  the  different  varieties,  but  this  may  perhaps  be  owing 
to  differences  in  their  texture.  When  leaves  of  the  cabbage, 
horse-radish  and  onion  were  given  together,  they  manifestly 
preferred  the  last  to  the  others.  Celery  is  preferred  to  the 
leaves  of  the  cabbage,  lime-tree,  ampelopsis  and  parsnip,  and 
the  leaves  of  the  wild  cherry  and  carrots,  especially  the  latter, 


Earth-Worms  in  History.  55 

to  all  the  others.  That  the  worms  have  a  preference  for  one 
taste  over  another,  is  still  further  shown  from  what  follows. 
Pieces  of  the  leaves  of  cabbage,  turnip,  horse-radish  and 
onion  have  been  fed  to  the  worms,  mingled  with  the  leaves 
of  an  Artemisia  and  of  the  culinary  sage,  thyme  and  mint, 
differing  in  no  material  degree  in  texture  from  the  foregoing 
four,  yet  quite  as  strong  in  taste,  but  the  latter  were  quite 
neglected  excepting  those  of  the  mint,  which  were  slightly 
nibbled,  but  the  others  were  all  attacked  and  had  to  be 
renewed. 

There  is  little  to  be  noted  about  the  mental  qualities  of 
worms.  They  have  been  seen  to  be  timid  creatures.  Their 
eagerness  for  certain  kinds  of  food  manifestly  shows  that 
they  must  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  eating.  So  strong  is  their 
sexual  passion  that  they  overcome  for  a  time  their  dread  of 
light.  They  seem  to  have  a  trace  of  social  feeling,  for  they 
are  not  disturbed  by  crawling  over  each  other's  bodies,  and 
they  sometimes  lie  in  contact.  Although  remarkably  defi- 
cient in  the  several  sense-organs,  yet  this  does  not  necessarily 
preclude  intelligence,  for  it  has  been  shown  that  when  their 
attention  is  engaged  they  neglect  impressions  to  which  they 
would  otherwise  have  attended,  and  attention,  as  is  well 
known,  indicates  the  presence  of  a  mind  of  some  kind.  A 
few  actions  are  performed  instinctively,  that  is,  all  the  indi- 
viduals, including  the  young,  perform  each  action  in  nearly 
the  same  manner.  The  various  species  of  Perichaeta  eject 
their  castings  so  as  to  construct  towers,  and  the  burrows 
of  the  Common  Earth-worm  —  Lumbricus  terrestris  —  are 
smoothly  lined  with  fine  earth  and  often  with  little  stones,  and 
the  mouth  with  leaves.  One  of  their  strongest  instincts  is 
the  plugging  up  of  the  mouths  of  their  burrows  with  various 
objects,  the  very  young  worms  acting  in  a  similar  manner. 
But  some  degree  of  intelligence  is  manifested,  as  will  subse- 
quently appear. 

Almost  everything  is  eaten  by  worms.  They  swallow 
enormous  quantities  of  earth,  from  which  they  extract  any 


56  Life  and  Immortality. 

digestible  matter  it  may  contain.  Large  numbers  of  half- 
decayed  leaves  of  all  kinds,  excepting  a  few  that  are  too 
tough  and  unpleasant  to  the  taste,  and  likewise  petioles, 
peduncles,  and  decayed  flowers.  Fresh  leaves  are  consumed 
as  well.  Particles  of  sugar,  licorice  and  starch,  and  bits  of 
raw  and  roasted  meat,  and  preferably  raw  fat,  are  eaten  when 
they  come  into  their  possession,  but  the  last  article  with  a 
better  relish  than  any  other  substance  given  to  them.  They 
are  cannibals  to  a  certain  extent,  and  have  been  known  to 
eat  the  dead  bodies  of  their  own  companions. 

The  digestive  fluid  of  worms,  according  to  Leon  Fredericq, 
is  analogous  in  nature  to  the  pancreatic  secretion  of  the 
higher  animals,  and  this  conclusion  agrees  perfectly  with  the 
kinds  of  food  which  they  consume.  Pancreatic  juice  emul- 
sifies fat,  dissolves  fibrin,  and  worms  greedily  devour  fat  and 
eat  raw  meat.  It  converts  starch  into  grape-sugar  with 
wonderful  rapidity,  and  the  digestive  fluid  of  worms  acts 
upon  the  starch  of  leaves.  But  worms  live  chiefly  on  half- 
decayed  leaves,  and  these  would  be  useless  to  them  unless 
they  could  digest  the  cellulose  forming  the  cell-walls,  for  all 
other  nutritious  substances,  as  is  well  known,  are  almost 
completely  withdrawn  from  leaves  shortly  before  they  fall 
off.  It  has  been  ascertained  that  cellulose,  though  very  little 
or  not  at  all  attacked  by  the  gastric  juice  of  the  higher 
animals,  is  acted  on  by  that  from  the  pancreas,  and  so  worms 
eat  the  leaves  as  much  for  the  cellulose  as  for  the  starch 
they  contain.  The  half-decayed  or  fresh  leaves  which  are 
intended  for  food  are  dragged  into  the  mouths  of  their  bur- 
rows to  a  depth  of  from  one  to  three  inches,  and  are  then 
moistened  with  a  secreted  fluid,  which  has  been  assumed  to 
hasten  their  decay,  but  which,  from  its  alkaline  nature,  and 
from  its  acting  both  on  the  starch-granules  and  on  the  proto- 
plasmic contents  of  the  cells,  is  not  of  the  nature  of  saliva, 
but  a  pancreatic  secretion,  and  of  the  same  kind  as  is  found 
in  the  intestines  of  worms.  As  the  leaves  which  are 
dragged  into  the  burrows  are  often  dry  and  shrivelled,  it  is 


Earth-Worms  in  History.  57 

indispensable  for  the  unarmed  mouths  of  worms  that  they 
should  first  be  moistened  and  softened,  their  disintegration 
being  thereby  the  more  readily  effected.  Fresh  leaves,  how- 
ever soft  and  tender  they  may  be,  are  similarly  treated,  prob- 
ably from  habit.  Thus  the  leaves  are  partially  digested  before 
they  are  taken  into  the  alimentary  canal,  an  instance  of 
extra-stomachal  digestion,  whose  nearest  analogy  is  to  be 
found  in  such  plants  as  Dionaea  and  Drosera,  for  in  them 
animal  matter  is  digested  and  converted  into  peptone,  not 
within  a  stomach,  but  on  the  surfaces  of  the  leaves. 

But  no  portion  of  the  economy  of  worms  has  been 
more  the  subject  of  speculation  than  the  calciferous  glands. 
About  as  many  theories  have  been  advanced  on  their  utility 
as  there  have  been  observers.  Judging  from  their  size  and 
from  their  rich  supply  of  blood-vessels,  they  must  be  of  vast 
importance  to  these  animals.  They  consist  of  three  pairs, 
which  in  the  Common  Earth-worm  debouch  into  the  ali- 
mentary canal  in  front  of  the  gizzard,  but  posteriorly  to  it,  in 
some  genera.  The  two  posterior  pairs  are  formed  by  lamellae, 
diverticula  from  the  oesophagus,  which  are  coated  with  a 
pulpy  cellular  layer,  with  the  outer  cells  lying  free  in  infinite 
numbers.  If  one  of  these  glands  is  punctured  and  squeezed, 
a  quantity  of  white,  pulpy  matter  exudes,  consisting  of  these 
free  cells,  which  are  minute  bodies,  varying  in  diameter  from 
two  to  six  millimetres.  They  contain  in  their  centres  a  small 
quantity  of  excessively  fine  granular  matter,  that  looks  so 
like  oil  globules  that  many  scientists  are  deceived  by  its 
appearance.  When  treated  with  acetic  acid  they  quickly 
dissolve  with  effervescence.  An  addition  of  oxalate  of  ammo- 
nia to  the  solution  throws  down  a  white  precipitate,  showing 
that  the  cells  contain  carbonate  of  lime.  The  two  anterior 
glands  differ  a  little  in  shape  from  the  four  posterior  ones  by 
being  more  oval,  and  also  conspicuously  in  generally  con- 
taining several  small,  or  two  or  three  larger,  or  a  single  very 
large  concretion  of  carbonate  of  lime,  as  much  as  one  and 
one-half  millimetres  in  diameter.  With  respect  to  the  function 


58  Life  and  Immortality. 

of  the  calciferous  glands,  it  is  likely  that  they  primarily 
serve  as  organs  of  excretion,  and  secondarily  as  an  aid  to 
digestion.  Worms  consume  many  fallen  leaves.  It  is  known 
that  lime  goes  on  accumulating  in  leaves  until  they  drop  off 
the  parent-plant,  instead  of  being  re-absorbed  into  the  stem 
of  roots,  like  various  other  organic  and  inorganic  substances, 
and  worms  would  therefore  be  liable  to  become  charged  with 
this  earth,  unless  there  was  some  special  apparatus  for  its 
excretion,  and  for  this  purpose  the  calciferous  glands  are  ably 
adapted.  On  the  other  hand,  the  carbonate  of  lime,  which 
is  excreted  by  the  glands,  aids  the  digestive  process  under 
ordinary  circumstances.  Leaves  during  their  decay  generate 
an  abundance  of  various  kinds  of  acids,  which  have  been 
grouped  together  under  the  term  of  humus  acids.  These 
half-decayed  leaves,  which  are  swallowed  by  worms  in  large 
quantities,  would,  therefore,  after  having  been  moistened  and 
triturated  in  the  alimentary  canal,  be  apt  to  produce  such 
acids,  and  in  the  case  of  several  worms,  whose  alimentary 
canals  were  examined,  their  contents  were  plainly  shown  by 
litmus  paper  to  be  decidedly  acid.  This  acidity  cannot  be 
attributed  to  the  nature  of  the  digestive  fluid,  for  pancreatic 
juice  is  alkaline,  and  so  also  is  the  secretion  which  is  poured 
out  of  the  mouths  of  worms  for  the  preparation  of  the  leaves 
for  consumption.  With  worms  not  only  the  contents  of  the 
intestines,  but  their  ejected  matter  or  the  castings  are  gener- 
ally acid.  The  digestive  fluid  of  worms  resembles  in  its 
action,  as  already  stated,  the  pancreatic  secretion  of  the  higher 
animals,  and  in  these  latter  pancreatic  digestion  is  necessarily 
alkaline,  and  the  action  will  not  take  place  unless  some  alkali 
be  present;  and  the  activity  of  an  alkaline  juice  is  arrested 
by  acidification,  and  hindered  by  neutralization.  Therefore 
is  seems  probable  that  innumerable  calciferous  cells,  which 
are  emptied  from  the  four  posterior  glands  in  the  alimentary 
canal,  serve  to  neutralize  more  or  less  completely  the  acids 
generated  there  by  the  half-decayed  leaves.  These  cells,  as 
has  been  seen,  are  instantly  dissolved  by  a  small  quantity  of 


Earth- Worms  in  History.  50 

acetic  acid,  and  as  they  do  not  always  suffice  to  render  of  no 
effect  the  contents  of  the  upper  part  of  the  alimentary  canal, 
it  is  probable  that  the  lime  is  aggregated  into  concretions,  in 
the  anterior  pair  of  glands,  in  order  that  some  may  be  con- 
veyed to  the  posterior  parts  of  the  intestine,  where  these 
concretions  would  be  rolled  about  among  the  acid  contents. 
The  concretions  found  in  the  intestines  and  in  the  castings 
often  present  a  worn  appearance,  but  whether  due  to  attrition 
or  chemical  corrosion  it  is  impossible  to  say.  That  they  are 
formed  for  the  sake  of  acting  as  mill  stones,  as  Claparede 
believed,  and  of  thus  assisting  in  the  trituration  of  food,  is 
not  at  all  likely,  as  this  object  is  already  attained  by  the 
stones  that  are  present  in  the  gizzards  and  intestines. 

In  dragging  leaves  into  their  burrows  worms  generally 
seize  the  thin  edge  of  a  leaf  with  their  mouths,  between  the 
projecting  upper  and  lower  lip,  the  thick  and  strong  pharynx 
at  the  same  time  being  pushed  forwards  within  their  bodies, 
so  as  to  afford  a  point  de  resistance  for  the  upper  lip  ;  but  in 
the  case  of  broad  and  flat  objects  the  pointed  anterior 
extremity  of  the  body,  after  being  brought  into  contact  with 
an  object  of  this  kind,  is  drawn  within  the  adjoining  rings, 
so  that  it  becomes  truncated  and  as  thick  as  the  rest  of  the 
body.  This  part  is  then  seen  to  swell  a  little,  seemingly 
from  the  pharynx  being  pushed  a  little  forwards.  By  a 
slight  withdrawal  of  the  pharynx,  or  by  its  expansion,  a 
vacuum  is  produced  beneath  the  truncated,  slimy  end  of 
the  body  whilst  in  contact  with  the  object,  and  by  this 
means  the  two  adhere  firmly  together.  Worms  can  attach 
themselves  to  an  object  in  the  same  manner  under  the  water. 

As  worms  have  no  teeth,  and  their  mouths  consist  of 
very  soft  tissue,  it  may  be  presumed  that  they  consume  by 
means  of  suction  of  the  edges  and  parenchyma  of  fresh 
leaves  after  they  have  been  softened  by  the  digestive  fluid. 
They  cannot  attack  such  strong  leaves  as  those  of  sea-kale 
or  large  and  thick  leaves  of  ivy.  They  not  only  seize  leaves 
and  other  objects  for  purposes  of  food,  but  for  plugging  up 


6o 


Life  and  Immortality. 


COMMON  EARTH-WORMS 
Out  on  a  Foraging  Excursion. 


the  mouths  of  their  burrows.  Flower-peduncles,  decayed 
twigs  of  trees,  bits  of  paper,  feathers,  tufts  of  wool  and 
horse-hair  are  some  of  the  many  things  other  than  leaves 
that  are  dragged  into  their  burrows  for  this  purpose.  Many 
hundred  leaves  of  the  pine-tree  have  been  found  drawn  by 
their  bases  into  burrows.  Where  fallen  leaves  are  abundant, 
especially  ordinary  dicotyledonous  leaves,  many  more  than 
can  be  used  are  collected  over  the  mouth  of  a  burrow,  so 
that  a  small  pile  of  unused  leaves  is  left  like  a  roof  over 
those  which  have  been  partly  dragged  in.  A  leaf  in  being 
dragged  a  little  way  into  a  cylindrical  burrow  necessarily 
becomes  much  folded  or  crumpled,  and  when  another  is 
drawn  in,  this  is  done  exteriorly  to  the  first,  and  so  on  with 
succeeding  leaves,  till  finally  they  all  become  closely  folded 
and  pressed  together.  Sometimes  the  mouth  of  a  burrow 


Earth-Worms  in  History.  61 

is  enlarged,  or  a  fresh  one  is  made  close  by,  so  that  a  larger 
number  of  leaves  may  be  drawn  in.  Generally  the  interstices 
between  the  drawn-in  leaves  are  filled  with  moist,  viscid 
earth  ejected  from  their  bodies,  thus  rendering  them  doubly 
secure.  Hundreds  of  such  plugged  burrows  may  be  seen 
during  the  autumnal  and  early  winter  months. 

When  leaves,  petioles,  sticks,  etc.,  cannot  be  obtained  for 
the  mouths  of  their  burrows,  heaps  of  stones,  smooth, 
rounded  pebbles,  are  utilized  for  protection.  When  the 
stones  are  removed  and  the  surface  of  the  ground  is  cleared 
for  some  inches  round  the  burrow,  the  worms  may  be  seen 
with  their  tails  fixed  in  their  burrows  dragging  the  stones 
inward  by  the  aid  of  their  mouths,  stones  weighing  as  much 
as  two  ounces  often  being  found  in  the  little  heaps,  which 
goes  to  show  how  strong  these  apparently  weak  creatures 
are.  Work  of  this  kind  is  usually  performed  during  the  night, 
although  objects  have  been  occasionally  known  to  be  drawn 
into  the  burrows  during  the  day.  What  advantage  worms 
derive  from  plugging  up  the  mouths  of  their  burrows,  or  from 
piling  stones  over  them,  cannot  be  satisfactorily  answered. 
They  do  not  act  in  this  manner  when  they  eject  much  earth 
from  their  burrows,  for  then  their  castings  serve  to  cover  the 
mouth.  Perhaps  the  plugs  serve  to  protect  them  from  the 
attacks  of  scolopenders,  their  most  inveterate  enemies,  or  to 
enable  them  to  remain  with  safety  with  their  heads  close  to 
the  mouths  of  their  burrows,  which  they  like  so  well  to  do, 
but  which,  unless  protected,  costs  many  a  fellow  its  life. 
Besides,  may  not  the  plugs  check  the  free  ingress  of  the 
lowest  stratum  of  air,  when  chilled  by  radiation  at  night, 
from  the  surrounding  ground  and  herbage  ?  The  last  view 
of  the  matter  seems  especially  well  taken,  because  worms 
kept  in  pots  where  there  is  fire,  having  no  cold  air  with 
which  to  contend,  plug  up  their  burrows  in  a  slovenly  man- 
ner, and  because  they  often  coat  the  upper  part  of  their 
burrows  with  leaves,  apparently  to  prevent  their  bodies  from 
coining  into  contact  with  the  cold,  damp  earth.  But  the 


62  Life  and  Immortality. 

plugging-up  process  may  undoubtedly  serve  for  all  these 
purposes.  Whatever  the  motive  may  be,  it  seems  that  worms 
much  dislike  leaving  the  mouths  of  their  burrows  open,  yet, 
nevertheless,  they  will  reopen  them  at  night,  whether  or  not 
they  are  able  afterwards  to  close  them. 

Considerable  intelligence  is  shown  by  worms  in  their  man- 
ner of  plugging  up  their  burrows.  If  man  had  to  plug  up 
a  cylindrical  hole  with  such  objects  as  leaves,  petioles  or 
twigs,  he  would  push  them  in  by  their  pointed  ends,  but  if 
these  were  thin  relatively  to  the  size  of  the  hole,  he  would 
probably  insert  some  by  their  broader  ends.  Intelligence 
would  certainly  be  his  guide  in  such  a  case.  But  how 
worms  would  drag  leaves  into  their  burrows,  whether  by 
their  tips,  bases,  or  middle  parts,  has  been  a  matter  of  interest 
to  many.  Darwin,  who  experimented  upon  the  subject, 
found  it  especially  desirable  to  experiment  with  plants  not 
natives  to  his  country,  for  he  conceived  that  although  the 
habit  of  dragging  leaves  into  their  burrows  is  undoubtedly 
instinctive  with  worms,  yet  instinct  could  not  teach  them 
how  to  act  in  the  case  of  leaves  about  which  their  progeni- 
tors knew  nothing.  Did  they  act  solely  through  instinct,  or 
an  unvarying  inherited  impulse,  they  would  draw  all  kinds 
of  leaves  into  their  burrows  in  the  same  manner.  Having 
no  such  definite  instinct,  chance  might  be  expected  to  deter- 
mine whether  the  tip,  base,  or  middle  might  be  seized.  If 
the  worm  in  each  case  first  tries  many  different  methods, 
and  follows  that  alone  which  proves  possible  or  the  most 
easy,  then  both  instinct  and  chance  are  ruled  out  of  the 
solution  of  the  question.  But  to  act  in  this  manner,  and  to 
try  different  methods,  makes  what  in  man  would  be  called 
intelligent  action. 

Three  species  of  pine-leaves  are  mentioned  by  Darwin  as 
being  regularly  drawn  into  the  mouths  of  worm-burrows  on 
the  gravel-walk  in  his  garden.  These  leaves  consist  of  two 
needles,  which  are  united  to  a  common  base,  and  it  is  by  this 
point  that  they  are  almost  invariably  drawn  into  the  burrows. 


Earth-  Worms  in  History.  63 

As  the  sharply-pointed  needles  diverge  somewhat,  and  as 
several  are  drawn  into  the  same  burrow,  each  tuft  forms  a 
perfect  chcvaux-de-frise.  Many  tufts  were  pulled  up  in  the 
evening,  but  by  the  ensuing  morning  fresh  leaves  had  taken 
their  places,  and  the  burrows  again  well  protected.  Impos- 
sible it  would  be  to  drag  these  leaves  to  any  depth  into  the 
burrows,  except  by  their  bases,  as  a  worm  cannot  seize  hold 
of  the  two  leaves  at  the  same  time,  and  if  one  alone  were 
seized  by  the  apex,  the  other  would  be  pressed  against  the 
ground  and  resist  the  entry  of  the  one  that  was  seized.  That 
the  worms  should  do  their  work  well,  it  was  very  essential 
that  they  drag  the  pine-leaves  into  their  burrows  by  their 
bases,  that  is,  where  the  two  needles  are  conjoined.  But  how 
they  are  guided  in  this  work  was  at  first  perplexing.  The 
difficulty,  however,  was  soon  settled.  With  the  assistance  of 
his  son  Francis,  the  elder  Darwin  set  to  work  to  observe 
worms  in  confinement  during  several  nights  by  the  aid  of  a 
dim  light,  while  they  dragged  the  leaves  of  the  afore- 
mentioned kinds  into  their  burrows.  They  were  seen  to 
move  the  anterior  extremities  of  their  bodies  about  the  leaves, 
and  on  several  occasions  when  they  touched  the  sharp  end 
of  the  needle  they  suddenly  withdrew  as  though  they  had 
been  pricked,  but  it  is  doubtful  that  they  were  hurt,  for  they 
are  indifferent  to  sharp  objects,  being  known  to  swallow 
rose-thorns  and  small  splinters  of  glass.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  the  sharp  end  of  the  needle  serves  to  tell  them  that 
is  the  wrong  end  to  seize,  for  the  points  of  many  were  cut  off 
for  the  length  of  an  inch,  and  these  leaves  were  always  drawn 
in  by  their  bases  and  not  by  the  cut-off  ends.  The  worms, 
it  seemed,  almost  instantly  perceived  as  soon  as  they  had 
seized  a  leaf  in  the  proper  manner.  Many  leaves  were 
cemented  together  at  the  top,  or  tied  together  by  fine  thread, 
and  these  in  the  majority  of  instances  were  dragged  in  by 
their  bases,  which  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  there  must 
be  something  attractive  to  worms  in  the  base  of  pine-leaves, 
notwithstanding  that  few  ordinary  leaves  are  drawn  in  by 


64  Life  and  Immortality. 

their  base  or  footstalk.  Leaves  of  other  plants,  and  also 
the  petioles  of  some  compound  plants,  as  well  as  triangular 
bits  of  paper,  dry  and  damp,  were  experimented  with,  and 
the  manner  of  seizing  the  objects  and  bearing  them  into 
their  burrows  were  as  amusing  as  they  were  novel  and 
interesting.  The  leaves  and  stems  used  were  such  as 
the  worms  had  not  been  accustomed  to  in  their  respective 
haunts. 

When  the  several  cases  experimented  on  are  considered, 
one  can  hardly  escape  from  the  conclusion  that  some  degree 
of  intelligence  is  shown  by  worms  in  plugging  up  their  bur- 
rows. Each  particular  object  is  seized  in  too  uniform  a 
manner,  and  from  causes  which  we  can  generally  under- 
stand, for  the  result  to  be  attributed  to  mere  chance.  That 
every  object  has  not  been  drawn  in  by  its  pointed  end  may 
be  accounted  for  by  labor  having  been  saved  by  some  being 
carried  in  by  their  broader  ends.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
worms  are  governed  by  instinct  in  plugging  up  their  bur- 
rows, and  it  might  be  expected  that  they  would  have  been 
taught  in  every  particular  instance  how  to  act  independently 
of  intelligence.  It  is  very  difficult  to  judge  when  intelli- 
gence comes  into  play.  The  actions  of  animals,  appearing 
due  to  intelligence,  may  be  performed  through  inherited 
habit  without  any  intelligence,  although  aboriginally  acquired, 
or  the  habit  may  be  acquired  through  the  preservation  and 
inheritance  of  some  other  action,  and  in  the  latter  case  the 
new  habit  will  have  been  acquired  independently  of  intelli- 
gence throughout  the  entire  course  of  its  development. 
There  is  no  a  priori  improbability  in  worms  having  acquired 
special  instincts  through  either  of  these  two  latter  means. 
Nevertheless  it  is  incredible  that  instincts  should  have  been 
developed  in  reference  to  objects,  such  as  the  leaves  and 
petioles  of  foreign  plants,  wholly  unknown  to  the  progeni- 
tors of  the  worms  which  have  acted  in  the  manner  just 
described.  Nor  are  their  actions  so  unvarying  or  inevitable 
as  are  most  true  instincts. 


Earth-  Worms  in  History.  65 

As  worms  are  not  controlled  by  special  instincts  in  each 
particular  case,  though  possessing  a  general  instinct  to  plug 
up  their  burrows,  and  as  chance  is  excluded,  the  next  most 
probable  conclusion  is  that  they  try  in  many  ways  to  draw 
in  objects  and  finally  succeed  in  some  one  way.  It  is  sur- 
prising, however,  that  an  animal  so  low  in  the  scale  as  a 
worm  should  have  the  capacity  to  act  in  this  way,  as  many 
higher  animals  have  no  such  capacity,  the  instincts  of  the 
latter  often  being  followed  in  a  senseless  or  purposeless 
manner. 

We  can  safely  infer  intelligence,  as  Mr.  Romanes,  who 
has  specially  studied  animals,  says,  only  when  we  see  an 
individual  profiting  by  his  own  experiences.  That  worms 
are  able  to  judge  either  before  or  after  having  drawn 
an  object  close  to  the  mouths  of  their  burrows  how  best 
to  drag  it  in,  shows  that  they  must  have  acquired  some 
notion  of  its  general  shape.  This  they  probably  acquire  by 
touching  it  in  many  places  with  the  anterior  extremity  of  their 
bodies,  which  serves  them  as  a  tactile  organ.  Man,  even 
when  born  blind  and  deaf,  shows  how  perfect  the  sense  of 
touch  may  become,  and  if  worms,  which  also  come  into 
being  in  the  same  condition,  have  the  power  of  acquiring 
some  notion,  however  rude,  of  the  shape  of  an  object  and 
their  burrows,  they  deserve,  it  must  seem  to  every  sensible 
mind,  to  be  called  intelligent  creatures,  for  they  act  in  such 
a  case  in  nearly  the  same  manner  as  a  man  would  under 
similar  circumstances.  That  worms,  which  stand  so  low  in 
the  scale  of  organization,  should  possess  some  degree  of 
intelligence,  will  doubtless  strike  everyone  as  very  improb- 
able. It  may  be  doubted,  however,  whether  we  know 
enough  about  the  nervous  system  of  the  lower  animals  to 
justify  our  natural  distrust  of  such  a  conclusion.  With  re- 
gard to  the  small  size  of  the  cerebral  ganglia,  we  would  do 
well  to  remember  what  a  mass  of  inherited  knowledge,  with 
some  power  of  adapting  means  to  an  end,  is  crowded  into 
the  minute  brain  of  a  worker  ant. 


66  Life  and  Immortality. 

Two  ways  are  adopted  by  worms  in  excavating  their  bur- 
rows. Either  the  earth  is  pushed  away  on  all  sides  or  it  is 
swallowed  by  the  animal.  In  the  former  case  the  worm 
inserts  the  stretched-out  and  attenuated  anterior  extremity 
of  its  body  into  any  little  crevice  or  hole,  and  the  pharynx 
is  pushed  forward  into  this  part,  which  consequently  swells 
and  pushes  away  the  earth  on  all  sides,  the  anterior  extremity 
thus  acting  as  a  wedge.  When  placed  in  loose  mould  a  worm 
will  bury  itself  in  between  two  and  three  minutes,  but  in 
earth  that  is  moderately  pressed  down  it  often  requires  as 
many  as  fifteen  minutes  for  its  disappearance.  But  whenever 
a  worm  burrows  to  a  depth  of  several  feet  in  undisturbed 
compact  ground,  it  must  form  its  passage  by  swallowing  the 
earth,  for  it  is  impossible  that  the  ground  could  yield  on  all 
sides  to  the  pressure  of  the  pharynx  when  pushed  forward 
within  the  worm's  body.  Great  depths  are  reached  only 
during  continued  dry  weather  and  severe  cold,  the  burrows 
sometimes  attaining  to  a  depth  of  from  seven  to  eight  feet. 
The  burrows  run  down  perpendicularly,  or,  more  commonly, 
obliquely,  and  are  sometimes  said  to  branch.  Generally,  or 
invariably  as  I  think,  they  are  lined  with  fine,  dark-colored 
earth  voided  by  the  worm,  so  that  at  first  they  must  be  made 
a  little  wider  than  their  ultimate  diameter.  Little  globular 
pellets  of  voided  earth,  still  soft  and  viscid,  often  dot  the 
walls  of  fresh  burrows,  and  these  are  spread  out  on  all  sides 
by  the  worm  as  it  travels  up  or  down  its  burrow,  the  lining 
thus  formed  becoming  very  compact  and  smooth  when 
nearly  dry  and  closely  fitting  the  worm's  body.  Ex- 
cellent points  of  support  are  thus  afforded  for  the  minute 
reflexed  bristles  which  project  in  rows  on  all  sides  from  the 
body,  thus  rendering  the  burrow  well  adapted  for  the  rapid 
movement  of  the  animal.  The  lining  appears  also  to 
strengthen  the  walls,  and  perhaps  saves  the  worm's  body 
from  being  scratched,  which  would  assuredly  be  the  case 
when  the  burrows,  as  is  occasionally  observed,  pass  through 
a  layer  of  sifted  coal  cinders.  The  burrows  are  thus  seen  to 


Earth-  Worms  in  History.  67 

be  not  mere  excavations,  but  may  be  compared  with  tunnels 
lined  with  cement.  Those  which  run  far  down  into  the 
ground  generally,  or  at  least  frequently,  terminate  in  little 
chambers,  where  one  or  several  worms  pass  the  winter  rolled 
up  into  a  ball.  Small  pebbles  and  seeds  as  large  as  grains 
of  mustard  are  carried  down  from  the  surface  by  being  swal- 
lowed or  within  the  mouths  of  worms,  as  well  as  bits  of  glass 
and  tile,  whose  only  use  in  their  winter-quarters  seems  to  be 
the  prevention  of  their  closely  coiled-up  bodies  from  coming 
into  contiguity  with  the  surrounding  cold  soil,  for  such  con- 
tact would  perhaps  interfere  with  their  respiration,  which  is 
effected  by  the  skin  alone. 

After  swallowing  earth,  whether  for  making  its  burrow  or 
for  food,  the  earth-worm  soon  comes  to  the  surface  to  empty 
its  body.  The  rejected  matter  is  thoroughly  mixed  with  the 
intestinal  secretions,  and  is  thus  rendered  viscid.  After  be- 
coming dried,  it  sets  hard.  When  in  a  very  liquid  state  the 
earth  is  thrown  out  in  little  spurts,  and  when  not  so  liquid 
by  a  slow  peristaltic  movement  of  the  intestine.  It  is  not 
cast  indifferently  on  any  side,  but  first  on  one  and  then 
on  another,  the  tail  being  used  almost  like  a  trowel.  The 
little  heap  being  formed  the  worm  seemingly  avoids,  for  the 
sake  of  safety,  the  use  of  its  tail,  the  earthy  matter  being 
forced  up  through  the  previously  deposited  soft  mass.  The 
mouth  of  the  same  burrow  is  used  for  this  purpose  for  a 
considerable  time.  When  a  worm  comes  to  the  surface  to 
eject  earth,  the  tail  protrudes,  but  when  it  collects  leaves  its 
head  must  protrude,  and  thus  worms  must  have  the  power 
of  performing  the  difficult  feat,  as  it  seems  to  us,  of  turning 
round  in  their  closely-fitting  burrows.  Worms  do  not  always 
eject  their  castings  upon  the  surface  of  the  ground,  for  when 
burrowing  in  newly  turned-up  earth,  or  between  the  stems 
of  banked-up  plants,  they  deposit  their  castings  in  such 
places,  and  even  hollows  beneath  large  stems  lying  on  the 
surface  of  the  ground  are  filled  up  with  their  ejections.  Old 
burrows  collapse  in  time.  The  fine  earth  voided  by  worms, 


68  Life  and  Immortality. 

if  spread  out  uniformly,  wouid  form  in  many  places  a  layer 
of  one-fifth  of  an  inch  in  thickness.  But  this  large  amount 
is  not  deposited  within  the  old  unused  burrows.  If  the 
burrows  did  not  collapse,  the  whole  ground  would  be  first 
thickly  riddled  with  holes  to  the  depth  of  ten  inches  or 
more,  which  in  fifty  years  would  grow  into  a  hollow,  unsup- 
ported place  ten  inches  deep. 

Hardly  any  animal  is  more  universally  distributed  than 
worms.  The  earth-worm  is  found  in  all  parts  of  the  world, 
and  some  of  the  genera  have  an  enormous  range.  They 
inhabit  the  most  isolated  islands,  abounding  in  Iceland,  and 
also  being  known  to  exist  in  the  West  Indies,  St.  Helena, 
Madagascar,  New  Caledonia  and  Tahiti.  Worms  from 
Kergulen  Land  in  the  Antarctic  regions  have  been  described 
by  Ray  Lankester,  and  Darwin  has  reported  them  as  being 
found  in  the  Falkland  Islands.  How  they  reach  such 
isolated  islands  is  quite  unknown.  They  are  easily  killed 
by  salt  water,  and  it  does  not  seem  likely  that  young  worms 
or  their  egg-capsules  could  be  carried  in  earth  adhering  to 
the  feet  or  beaks  of  land-birds,  especially  to  Kergulen  Land, 
for  it  is  not  now  inhabited  by  any  terrestrial  bird. 

We  have  seen  that  worms  are  found  in  nearly  every  part 
of  the  globe,  that  they  are  very  numerous,  as  many  as 
348,480  having  been  found  in  an  acre  of  rich  ground  in  New 
Zealand,  and  that  by  the  peculiar  economy  of  their  nature 
they  are  fitted  to  accomplish  a  great  deal  of  good  in  the 
earth.  They  have  played  a  more  important  part  in  the 
history  of  the  world  than  most  persons  would  at  first  sup- 
pose. In  many  parts  of  England,  according  to  Darwin,  a 
weight  of  more  than  ten  tons  of  dry  earth  annually  passes 
through  their  bodies  and  is  brought  to  the  surface  in  each 
acre  of  land,  so  that  the  entire  superficial  bed  of  vegetable 
mould  passes  through  their  bodies  in  the  course  of  every 
few  years ;  and  in  most  parts  of  the  forests  and  pasture-lands 
of  Southern  Brazil,  where  several  species  of  earth-worms 
abound,  the  whole  soil  to  a  depth  of  a  quarter  of  a  metre 


Earth-  Worms  in  History.  69 

looks  as  though  it  had  passed  through  the  intestines  of 
worms,  even  where  scarcely  any  castings  are  to  be  observed 
upon  the  surface.  The  upper  crust  is  continually  being 
eaten  and  ejected  by  them,  thus  aiding  the  fertility  of  the 
soil,  as  well  as  conveying  water  and  air  to  the  interior  by 
the  myriads  of  burrows  which  they  drill.  The  vast  quan- 
tities of  leaves  that  they  drag  into  their  holes  tend  also  to 
enrich  the  ground.  Nor  does  their  good  end  here.  They 
cover  up  seeds,  undermine  rocks,  burying  them  up,  and  to 
their  labors  is  due  the  preservation  of  many  ruins  and 
ancient  works  of  art.  Numerous  old-time  Roman  villas 
have  been  discovered  beneath  the  ground  in  England,  whose 
entombments  were  undoubtedly  caused  by  the  worms  that 
undermined  them  and  deposited  their  castings  upon  the 
floors,  till  finally,  aided  by  other  causes,  they  disappeared 
from  sight. 

When  a  wide,  turf-covered  expanse  of  earth  is  beheld,  we 
would  do  well  to  remember  that  its  smoothness,  upon  which 
so  much  of  its  beauty  depends,  is  largely  due  to  all  the 
inequalities  having  been  slowly  levelled  by  worms.  That  all 
the  surface-mould  of  any  such  expanse  has  passed,  and  will 
again  pass,  every  few  years  through  the  bodies  of  worms  is 
a  marvellous  reflection,  and  one  which  should  not  be  lightly 
dismissed  from  the  mind.  The  most  ancient,  as  well  as  one 
of  the  most  valuable  of  man's  inventions,  is  the  plough.  But 
long  before  man  existed  the  land  was  in  fact  regularly 
ploughed,  and  still  continues  to  be  ploughed,  by  earth-worms. 
No  other  animal  has  played  such  a  part  in  history  as  have 
these  lowly-organized  creatures.  True  it  is  that  corals, 
which  are  still  lower  in  the  scale  of  animals,  have  performed 
more  conspicuous  work  in  the  innumerable  reefs  and  islands 
they  have  built  in  the  great  oceans,  but  their  work  is  con- 
fined to  the  tropical  zones,  while  that  of  the  earth-worm  is 
well-nigh  universal.  Verily  it  is  by  the  little  things  in  life 
that  the  Creator  has  erected  the  most  stupendous  monu- 
ments to  show  forth  His  infinite  power  and  wisdom. 


AflD 


AMONG  our  first  acquaintances  of  the  sea-shore  are  sure 
to  be  a  number  of  merry  little  sprites  which  do  not 
seem  to  have  yet  mastered  the  lesson  of  walking  straight 
ahead.  Their  movements  will  be  seen  to  be  in  a  direction  at 
right  angles  to  that  towards  which  the  head  points.  It  is  a 
very  interesting  sight  to  watch  these  apparently  one-sided 
creatures  hurrying  off  in  their  lateral  progression  towards 
their  burrows  in  the  sand  or  mud,  or  in  quest  of  food.  Pass 
them,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  see  how  quickly  some  of 
them  will  reverse  their  motion,  seemingly  without  so  much 
as  pausing  to  glance  at  their  pursuer,  their  machinery  appear- 
ing to  have  given  out  at  one  end,  thus  compelling  them  to 
reverse  and  travel  back  over  their  old  courses. 

These  little  Fiddler-  or  Calling-crabs,  as  they  are  termed, 
are  the  most  pronounced  offenders  against  the  commonly- 
accepted  rule  of  proper  walking.  Scattered  all  over  the 
salt  marshes  and  mud-flats,  at  about  high-water  mark, 
may  be  noted  their  burrows,  which  are  about  as  large  as  a 
thrust  made  by  an  umbrella  point,  and  from  which  can  be 
frequently  seen  the  little  animal  peeping  forth,  preparatory 
to  making  a  sally.  At  another  part  of  the  flat,  where  the 
noise  of  your  footsteps  has  not  given  signals  of  danger, 
hundreds  of  crabblings  are  busy  with  their  out-door  occupa- 
tions. Draw  near  to  them,  and  away  they  scamper  to  their 
dwellings,  males  and  females  intermingled  promiscuously,  the 
former  recognizable  by  the  undue  development  of  one  of  the 
claws,  which  is  carried  transversely  in  front  of  the  head. 
When  the  animal  is  provoked,  this  claw  is  brandished  in  a 


Fiddler- and  Hermit-Crabs.  71 

somewhat  menacing  manner,  which  has  been  likened  by  some 
to  the  pulling  of  a  violin  bow,  and  by  others  to  the  action  of 
beckoning  or  calling,  and  hence  the  names  which  have  been 
applied  to  these  eccentric  creatures. 

Have  you  a  desire  for  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
animal,  take  him  up  by  the  big  claw,  and  you  can  now 
examine  him  without  the  least  fear  of  incurring  the  proofs 
of  his  displeasure.  Two  bead-like,  compound  eyes,  sup- 
ported on  long  stalks,  which  can  be  readily  withdrawn  into 
the  protecting  shield  of  the  carapace,  will  be  observed. 
From  the  manner  of  this  support,  which  allows  of  vision  in 
almost  every  direction,  the  name  of  stalk-eyed  crustaceans 
has  been  given  to  the  group  in  which  this  structure  is  found. 
The  two  pairs  of  feelers,  which  you  see  in  front  of  the  eyes, 
are  known  as  antennae  and  antennules.  They  are  of  peculiar 
interest,  for,  aside  from  acting  as  feelers,  they  subserve  the 
functions  of  smelling  and  hearing,  the  auditory  apparatus 
being  lodged  in  the  base  of  the  smaller  pair.  There  are  ten 
feet,  and  this  is  a  character  of  importance,  as  it  is  a  feature 
distinctive  of  the  ten-footed,  or  decapod,  crustaceans.  At 
first  sight  it  appears  that  the  animal  is  devoid  of  a  tail,  but  if 
you  turn  him  over  upon  his  back  you  will  find  a  very  short 
one  tucked  safely  under  the  body.  A  comparison  of  our 
study  of  this  crab  with  that  of  the  lobster  or  cray-fish  will 
show  that  the  tail,  or,  more  properly,  the  abdomen,  is 
stretched  out  beyond  the  body  proper,  and  that  the  elonga- 
tion is  in  proportion  to  the  length  of  the  animal.  Two  dis- 
tinct groups  of  ten-legged,  stalk-eyed  crustaceans  are  thus 
recognized,  namely :  the  short-tailed  forms,  or  crabs,  and  the 
opposite,  or  long-tailed  forms,  to  which  the  lobster  and  shrimp 
belong,  the  hermit-crabs  constituting  an  intermediate  type. 

Two  species  of  the  Fiddler,  considerably  resembling  each 
other  in  color  and  ornamentation,  are  to  be  found  upon  our 
Atlantic  Coast.  The  more  common  form,  Gelasimus  vocator, 
has  a  smooth,  shining  carapace,  while  that  of  Gelasimus 
minax  is  finely  granulated  and  in  part  tuberculated,  the  back 


72  Life  and  Immortality. 

of  both  appearing  impressed"  with  a  figure  very  similar  to 
the  letter  H.  The  latter,  which  appears  to  be  a  vegetable 
feeder,  is  the  larger,  its  burrows  not  infrequently  measuring 
one  and  a  half  inches  in  diameter.  Estuarine  regions,  in 
close  proximity  to  fresh  water,  rather  than  the  tidal  flats,  are 
its  habitat,  and,  in  truth,  it  seems  to  be  able  to  get  along  for 
weeks,  and  even  months,  without  any  absolute  need  of  salt 
water. 


FIDDLER-CRABS. 
Two  Males  Fighting  for  a  Female. 


In  the  excavation  of  their  homes  the  Fiddlers  throw  up  the 
pellets  of  moist  earth  by  means  of  their  anterior  walking 
legs,  depositing  their  burden  usually  at  some  little  distance 
from  the  mouth  of  the  burrow.  As  winter  approaches,  the 
domiciliary  apertures  are  closed  up,  and  the  famine  of  win- 
ter is  spent  in  a  state  of  torpidity. 

With  the  advent  of  spring  they  come  forth  from  their 
brumal  retreats,  and  soon  concern  themselves  with  the  duties 
incident  to  the  propagation  of  their  kind.  Two  males  are 


Fiddler- and  Hermit- Crabs.  73 

often  observed  contending  in  the  fiercest  manner  for  the  pos- 
session of  a  female.  They  strike  with  the  formidable  claw 
most  powerful  blows,  and  I  have  often  seen  an  opponent  so 
completely  claw-locked  as  to  be  unutterly  unable  to  make 
any  determined  resistance.  These  contests  last  a  long  while, 
and  finally  conclude  with  the  complete  vanquishment  of  one 
or  the  other  of  the  fighting  parties,  one  or  both  sustaining 
at  times  some  severe  injury  as  the  loss  of  an  eye-peduncle 
or  the  joint  of  a  limb.  All  the  while  the  battle  is  waging, 
the  female  is  a  silent,  passive  spectator,  and  generally  allies 
herself  with  the  successful  competitor  for  her  affections. 
Even  during  the  summer  season,  when  the  cares  of  brood- 
raising  no  longer  command  and  enslave  the  attention  of  the 
female,  these  combats  are  still  indulged  in  by  the  males, 
growing  out  of,  as  it  would  seem,  the  lingering  smarts  of 
old  animosities  festering  in  the  memory.  While  these  car- 
cinological  lords  of  the  sea-side  are  eminently  fitted  for  the 
sparring  business,  the  whole  physiognomy  of  their  smaller, 
weaker  partners  bespeaks  a  life  in  which  broils  can  have  no 
part,  a  life  devoted  to  peaceful  and  domestic  pursuits. 

Differing  widely  in  structure  and  habits  from  the  Calling- 
crabs,  and  affecting  watery  situations  near  the  shore,  are  to 
be  found  the  Hermit-crabs.  These  sprightly  little  animals, 
which  are  usually  of  small  size,  and  have  truly  habits  of  their 
own,  that  stamp  them  at  once  as  being  original  and  distinct- 
ive, are  a  source  of  never-failing  delight  to  the  student  of 
nature:  They  derive  their  name,  as  is  well  known,  from  the 
seclusion  into  which  they  cast  themselves  as  the  inhabitants 
of  the  shells  of  other  animals,  but  it  is  probably  not  gener- 
ally known,  however,  that  the  rights  of  tenantry  are  often- 
times exercised  in  the  most  arbitrary  manner.  Not  always 
satisfied  with  a  dead  shell,  the  Hermit-crab  has  been  seen  to 
raid  upon  a  living  possessor  and  attempt  to  drag  him  from 
his  home,  in  which  operation  the  assailant  is  often  assisted 
by  a  number  of  his  fellows,  each  bearing  with  him  his  castle 
as  defensive  armor.  True,  the  attack  is  probably  made  in 


74  Lift  and  Immortality. 

many  instances  for  the  purpose  of  getting  possession  of 
the  enemy  as  well  as  his  belongings,  and,  however  this 
may  be,  forcible  possession  is  by  them  considered  no  mis- 
demeanor. 

The  body  of  the  Hermit-crab,  in  the  greater  number  of 
species,  is  unprovided  with  a  carapace,  and,  being  soft  and 
liable  to  injury,  the  animal  is  compelled  to  seek  shelter 
usually  in  a  snail-shell,  winding  himself  about  the  coils,  to 
the  inner  extremity  of  which  he  attaches  himself  by  his 
modified  posterior  feet.  So  securely  is  he  now  intrenched 
that  it  is  only  with  difficulty  he  can  be  withdrawn,  retracting 
himself  as  he  does  further  and  further  within  cover  of  the 
shell.  A  sudden  fracture  of  the  apex  of  the  shell,  under 
which  appears  to  be  the  most  delicate  part  of  the  animal's 
body,  will  generally  effect  a  speedy  dislodgment,  the  fright- 
ened Crab  dropping  from  the  aperture. 

With  his  progressive  development  in  size  the  Hermit 
requires  frequent  changes  of  abode.  His  methods  in  secur- 
ing a  new  habitation  are  among  the  most  interesting  of  his 
life.  He  is  very  circumspect  in  his  movements,  and  will 
make  several  reconnoissances  before  he  is  fully  satisfied  with 
the  conditions  of  his  prospective  home,  retiring  after  each 
visit  to  the  old  shell. 

Like  many  bipeds,  he  has  his  first  of  May,  and  so  he  goes 
house-hunting.  He  finds  a  shell.  Will  it  do  ?  He  examines 
it  within,  feelingly  if  not  courteously,  to  see  whether  it  is  to 
let.  Satisfied  on  this  point,  he  turns  it  over,  then  turns  it 
round,  to  know  if  it  will  suit,  the  weight  of  the  house  being 
quite  an  item  in  the  reckoning  to  one  who  is  to  carry  it  upon 
his  back.  All  things  being  right,  his  mind  is  made  up  to 
move,  and  quickly,  too,  at  that,  lest  he  miss  his  chance 
through  some  more  active  fellow  house-hunter  who  is  on  the 
alert.  Out  comes  the  body  from  the  old  house,  and  pop  it 
goes  into  the  new.  The  resolution  to  move,  the  surrender 
of  the  old  house,  and  the  occupancy  of  the  new,  were  all 
effected  within  a  fraction  of  a  second  of  time. 


Fiddler- and  Hermit- Crabs. 


WARTY  HERMIT-CRABS. 
One  at  Home,  the  Other  House-Hunting. 

But  the  matter  does  not  always  go  on  pleasantly.  Two 
house-hunters  may  find  the  same  tenement.  Should  they 
both  desire  it,  then  comes  the  tug  of  war.  Dwell  together 
they  neither  can  nor  will.  Recourse  is  had  to  battle,  in 
which  the  stronger  proves  his  claim  right  by  the  rule  of 
might.  In  these  encounters  terrible  mutilations  quite  often 
occur. 

As  an  offset  to  all  this  bad  feeling  and  bloodshed,  it  is  a 
sad  sight  to  see  the  little  Hermit  when  his  time  comes  to  die. 
However  droll  his  career  may  have  been,  he  is  now  very 
grave;  for  he  knows  he  must  part  with  life  and  all  its  joys 
and  pleasures.  Who  can  explain  the  strange  fact  ?  The 
poor  little  fellow  comes  out  of  his  house  to  die.  Yes,  to  die. 
To  us  humans  home  is  the  only  fit  place  to  die  in,  but  to  Eu- 
pagurus  it  has  no  attractions  at  this  solemn  time.  Poor 
fellow !  With  a  sad  look  and  a  melancholy  movement  he 
quits  of  his  own  will  the  house  for  which  he  fought  so  well. 
Those  feelers  that  often  stood  out  so  provokingly,  and  that 
were  quite  as  often  poked  into  everybody's  business,  now 
lie  prone  and  harmless ;  the  eyes  have  lost  their  pertness, 


76  Life  and  Immortality. 

and  dead,  stone  dead,  the  houseless  Hermit  lies  upon  that 
moss-covered  rock. 

There  are  two  species  of  Hermit-crab  occurring  on  our 
coast,  which  are  readily  distinguishable  from  each  other  by 
their  size  and  the  difference  in  the  shape  of  the  big  claw. 
Eupagurus  pollicaris,  the  Warty  Hermit,  is  the  larger  species. 
He  inhabits  the  shells  of  the  big  Naticas  and  the  Fulgurs, 
and  can  be  easily  recognized  by  his  coarse,  broad  claws, 
which  close  up  in  great  part  the  aperture  of  the  shell  which 
he  occupies.  In  the  more  common  form,  Eupagurus  longicar- 
pus,  which  seldom  attains  a  length  exceeding  an  inch,  the  legs 
are  all  much  elongated,  giving  the  animal  a  very  slender 
appearance. 


BUILDER. 


SIMPLE  nests  and  tubes  are  all  the  majority  of  spiders 
construct  for  their  homes.  The  larger  and  better  known 
webs  for  catching  insects  are  made  by  comparatively  few 
species.  He  who  is  astir  in  the  grass-fields  on  damp  sum- 
mer mornings,  will  everywhere  see  innumerous  flat  webs, 
from  an  inch  or  two  to  a  foot  in  diameter,  which  weather- 
wise  folks  consider  prognostic  of  a  fair  day.  These  webs 
may  always  be  found  upon  the  grass  at  the  proper  season, 
but  only  become  visible  from  a  distance  when  the  dew  is 
upon  them,  making  the  earth  appear  as  covered  by  an  almost 
continuous  carpet  of  silk. 

By  far  the  greater  number  of  these  nests  is  of  the  form 
which  is  termed  funnel-webs,  which  consist  of  a  concave 
sheet  of  silk,  constituted  of  strong  threads,  crossed  by  finer 
ones,  which  the  author  spins  with  the  long  hind-spinnerets, 
swinging  them  from  side  to  side,  and  laying  down  a  band  of 
threads  at  each  stroke,  the  many  hundred  threads  extending 
in  all  directions  to  the  supporting  spears  of  grass.  The  web 
is  so  close  and  tight  that  the  footsteps  of  the  spider  can  be 
distinctly  heard  by  the  attentive,  listening  ear  as  she  runs 
hither  and  thither  over  its  scarcely  bending  surface.  At  one 
side  of  the  web  is  a  tube,  leading  down  among  the  grass- 
stems,  which  serves  as  a  hiding-place  for  the  owner  of  the 
web.  Here,  at  the  top,  and  just  out  of  sight,  the  spider 
ordinarily  stands,  waiting  for  something  to  light  upon  the 
web,  when  she  eagerly  rushes  out,  seizing  the  prey  unluckily 
caught  and  carrying  it  into  her  tube  to  eat.  If  too  formida- 
ble an  insect  comes  upon  the  web,  she  turns  herself  round, 


7 8  Life  and  Immortality. 

beating  a  precipitate  retreat  out  of  the  lower  end  of  her 
funnel  and  soon  is  lost  beneath  the  mesh  of  enveloping  and 
interlacing  grasses. 

Where  favorably  located,  these  webs  remain  through  the 
entire  season,  and  are  enlarged,  as  the  spider  grows,  by  addi- 
tions on  the  outer  edges,  and  are  supported  by  threads  run- 
ning up  into  the  neighboring  plants.  Sometimes  the  webs 
are  built  in  close  proximity  to  a  stone  partially  imbedded  in 
the  earth,  the  bottom  of  the  funnel  opening  slightly  under- 
neath the  stone,  which  secures  to  the  spider  a  convenient 
harbor  in  case  of  threatening  danger. 

Agalenidse,  as  our  funnel-web  weavers  are  called,  are 
long-legged,  brown  spiders,  in  which  the  head  part  of  the 
cephalo-thorax  is  higher  than  the  thoracic  part,  and  dis- 
tinctly separated  from  it  by  grooves  or  marks  at  the  sides. 
The  eyes  are  usually  in  two  rows,  but  in  Agalena  the  middle 
eyes  of  both  rows  are  much  higher  than  the  others.  The 
feet  have  three  claws,  and  the  posterior  pairs  of  spinnerets 
are  two-jointed  and  usually  longer  than  the  others.  Agalena 
ncevia,  the  technical  name  of  our  Common  Grass  Spider, 
abounds  in  all  parts  of  the  United  States,  but  its  very  com- 
monness is  the  principal  reason  why  it  is  so  little  known 
except  by  the  trained  naturalist,  its  very  familiarity  leading 
the  average  man  and  woman  to  look  upon  it  with  contempt. 

Persons  unfamiliar  with  spiders  find  it  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish the  young  from  the  old,  and  male  from  female.  This 
is  caused,  in  part,  by  the  great  differences  between  different 
ages  and  sexes  of  the  same  spider,  on  account  of  which  they 
are  supposed  to  belong  to  distinct  species.  The  adult  males 
and  females,  however,  are  easily  distinguished  from  each  other, 
and  from  the  young,  by  the  complete  development  of  organs 
peculiar  to  each  sex,  the  palpal  organs  on  the  ends  of  the 
palpi  in  the  males,  and  the  epigynum,  a  hard  swollen  place 
just  in  front  of  the  opening  of  the  ovaries  in  the  females. 
Usually  the  males  are  smaller  than  their  partners,  and  have,  in 
proportion  to  their  size,  smaller  abdomens  and  longer  legs. 


Funnel-  Web  Builder. 


79 


AGALENA  AND  HER  FUNNEL-WEB. 
House- Fly,  Caught  in  the  Toils,  Becomes  a  Victim. 


They  are  generally  darker  colored,  especially  on  the  head 
and  front  part  of  the  body,  and  markings  which  are  distinct 
in  the  female  coalesce  and  become  darker  in  the  male.  In 
most  species  these  differences  are  not  very  great,  but  in 
some,  Argiope  and  Nephila  for  examples,  where  the  males 
are  about  one-tenth  as  large  as  the  females,  one  would 
hardly  suppose,  without  other  evidence,  that  the  males  and 
females  had  any  relationship  to  each  other.  The  palpal 
organs  and  the  epigynum  are  sexual  characters  which  do 
not  attain  their  functional  value  until  after  the  last  moult 
has  been  effected. 


8o  Life  and  Immortality. 

Spiders  are  naturally  very  selfish  creatures.  Their  chief 
concern  in  life  seems  to  be  the  gratification  of  their  desires 
for  food.  They  are  eminently  unsocial,  the  sexes  preferring 
to  live  solitary  lives.  It  is  only  when  actuated  by  amatory 
influences  that  the  females  will  tolerate  their  weaker  lords, 
and  in  some  instances  it  is  only  by  stratagem  and  agility  that 
the  latter  are  able  to  accomplish  the  fulfilment  of  the  law  cf 
their  being,  the  females  by  their  ugly,  vicious  tempers  resist- 
ing to  the  utmost.  In  the  case  of  Agalena  the  male  is  the 
stronger  of  the  two.  He,  at  the  proper  time,  when  the 
reproductive  cells  are  matured,  takes  the  female  in  his  power- 
ful mandibles,  Jays  her  gently  on  one  side,  and  inserts  one  of 
his  palpi,  whose  little  sacs  had  previously  been  filled  with 
the  fecundating  discharge,  into  the  epigynum  underneath. 
After  a  time,  necessarily  brief,  he  rises  on  tiptoe,  turns  her 
around  and  over,  so  that  she  comfortably  lies  on  the  other 
side,  her  head  being  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  inserts  the 
other  palpus.  All  through  the  operation  the  female  lies  as 
though  she  was  dead.  The  ends  of  nature  being  served,  the 
sexes  separate,  the  male  returning  to  the  solitary  life  he 
previously  led,  while  the  female  busies  herself  in  providing 
for  the  duties  of  maternity. 

The  eggs  becoming  mature,  the  latter  proceeds  to  make  a 
little  web  and  lays  them  in  it,  practising  the  utmost  care. 
She  now  covers  them  over  with  silk,  which  she  weaves  into 
a  cocoon,  where  the  young  remain  some  time  after  they  are 
hatched.  Seldom  is  the  laying  seen,  for  it  generally  happens 
in  the  night-time,  or  in  retired  places.  Often,  in  confinement, 
the  spider  refuses  to  lay  at  all.  An  egg  of  a  spider,  like 
that  of  any  other  animal,  is  a  cell  which  separates  from  the 
body  of  the  female,  and  subsequently  unites  with  one  or  more 
cells  that  have  separated  from  the  body  of  the  male.  This 
process  of  union,  termed  fertilization,  doubtless  takes  place 
when  the  eggs  have  attained  their  full  size  and  are  about 

oo 

to  be  laid.     After  being  laid  and  hardened  it  is  a  very  easy 
matter  to  watch  their  development.     All  that  is  necessary 


Funnel-  Web  Builder.  8 1 

to  be  done  is  to  cover  the  egg  to  be  examined  with  oil, 
alcohol  or  any  liquid  that  will  wet  it,  for  this  tends  to  make 
the  shell  transparent.  Eggs  laid  in  summer  are  ready  to 
hatch  in  a  fortnight,  while  those  laid  in  autumn  develop 
slowly  all  through  the  winter.  A  day  or  two  are  occupied 
in  hatching.  When  the  time  has  arrived  the  shell,  or  more 
properly  the  skin,  cracks  along  the  lines  between  the  legs, 
and  comes  off  in  rags,  and  the  spider  slowly  stretches  itself 
and  creeps  about.  Pale  and  soft  it  appears,  and  devoid  of 
hairs  or  spines,  but  its  feet  are  armed  with  small  claws.  In 
two  or  three  days  it  gets  rid  of  another  skin,  and  begins  to 
assume  a  spider-like  appearance,  the  eyes  becoming  dark- 
colored,  the  thoracic  marks  growing  more  distinct,  and  a 
dark  stripe  appearing  across  the  edge  of  each  segment  of  the 
abdomen.  The  hairs  are  now  long,  but  few  in  number,  and 
arranged  in  rows  across  the  abdomen  and  along  the  middle 
of  the  thorax.  Before  the  next  moult  they  usually  forsake 
the  cocoon,  and  live  together  for  a  short  time  in  a  web  spun 
in  common.  Where  larger  broods  of  young  spiders  live 
together,  they  soon  show  cannibal-like  qualities,  and  if  kept 
in  confinement  one  or  two  out  of  a  cocoon-full  may  be  raised 
without  recourse  to  any  other  food. 

As  spiders  grow  larger,  they  must  moult  from  time  to 
time.  This  is  an  interesting  process.  The  spider  hangs 
herself  by  a  thread  from  the  spinnerets  to  the  centre  of  the 
web.  In  a  short  time  the  skin  cracks  around  the  thorax, 
just  .over  the  first  joints  of  the  legs,  and  the  top  part  falls 
forward,  being  held  only  at  the  front  edge.  The  skin  of  the 
abdomen  now  breaks  irregularly  along  the  sides  and  back, 
and  shrinks  together  in  a  bunch,  leaving  the  spider  sus- 
pended only  by  a  short  thread  from  the  spinnerets,  her  legs 
still  being  trammelled  by  the  old  skin.  Fifteen  minutes  of  vio- 
lent exertion  releases  her  from  the  encumbrance,  when  she 
drops  down,  hanging  by  her  spinnerets  like  a  wet  rag.  She 
can  do  nothing  in  this  condition,  not  even  draw  her  legs 
away  from  an  approaching  hand.  In  ten  or  twelve  minutes 


82  Life  and  Immortality. 

the  legs  show  signs  of  strengthening,  and  she  is  able  to 
draw  them  gradually  towards  her.  A  few  up-and-down 
movements,  and  she  manages  to  get  into  the  web  again. 

That  which,  more  than  anything  else,  discriminates  spiders 
from  other  animals  is  their  habit  of  spinning  webs.  Some 
of  the  mites  spin  irregular  threads  upon  plants,  or  cocoons 
for  their  eggs,  and  many  insects  cocoons  in  which  to 
undergo  their  changes  from  larva  to  imago,  but  in  the 
spiders  the  spinning-organs  are  much  more  complicated, 
and  used  for  a  greater  variety  of  purposes,  for  making 
egg-cocoons,  silk  linings  to  their  nests,  and  nets  for  catching 
insects.  The  spider's  thread  differs  from  that  of  insects,  in 
being  constituted  of  a  great  number  of  finer  threads  laid 
together,  while  soft  enough  to  coalesce  into  one.  Each 
spinneret  is  provided  with  a  number  of  little  tubes,  which 
convey  the  viscid  liquid  that  forms  the  thread  from  glands 
in  the  spider's  body.  In  Agalena  the  two  hinder  spinnerets 
are  long,  and  have  spinning-tubes  along  the  under  side  of  the 
last  joint. 

When  about  to  produce  a  thread  the  spider  presses  the 
spinnerets  against  some  object  and  forces  out  from  each 
tube  enough  of  the  secretion  to  adhere  to  it,  when  the  spin- 
nerets are  moved  away,  drawing  the  viscid  liquid  out,  which 
hardens  at  once  into  threads  for  each  tube.  A  band  of 
threads  is  formed  when  the  spinnerets  are  kept  apart, 
but  when  closed  together  the  fine  threads  unite  into  one 
or  more  large  ones.  Commonly  the  spinning  is  aided  by 
the  hinder  feet,  which  guide  the  thread,  keeping  it  clear  of 
surrounding  objects,  and  even  pulling  it  from  the  spin- 
nerets. 

Spiders  are  best  known  and  hated  as  animals  that  bite. 
Their  biting-apparatus,  the  mandibles,  are  located  in  front  of 
the  head.  Partly  in  the  basal  joints  of  these  organs  and 
partly  in  the  head,  the  poison-glands  are  seated,  from  which 
is  discharged  through  a  tube  the  venom,  which  makes  spi- 
ders so  much  to  be  feared.  This  tube  opens  at  the  point  of 


Funnel-Web  Builder.  83 

the  claw  of  the  mandible.  When  the  apparatus  is  not  in  use 
the  claws  are  closed  up  against  the  parts  between  the  rows 
of  teeth ;  but  when  the  jaws  are  opened  to  bite  the  claws 
are  turned  outward,  so  that  their  points  can  be  made  to 
penetrate  anything  that  comes  between  the  jaws.  The  ordi- 
nary function  of  the  mandibles  is  the  killing  and  crushing  of 
insects,  so  that  the  soft  parts  can  be  eaten  by  the  spider,  and 
in  this  preparation  they  are  substantially  aided  by  the  max- 
illae. Spiders  will  sometimes  chew  an  insect  for  hours,  until 
it  becomes  a  mere  ball  of  skin,  only  swallowing  such  bits  as 
may  happen  to  be  sucked  in  with  the  blood.  Let  alone  and 
unmolested,  they  bite  nothing  except  insects  that  are  useful 
for  food.  But  when  attacked  and  cornered,  all  species  open 
their  jaws  and  bite  if  they  can,  their  ability  to  do  so  depend- 
ing upon  their  size  and  the  strength  of  their  jaws.  Notwith- 
standing the  large  number  of  pimples  and  stings  ascribed  to 
spiders,  undoubted  cases  of  their  biting  the  human  skin  are 
exceedingly  rare,  and  the  stories  of  death,  insanity  and  lame- 
ness from  spider-bites  are  probably  all  untrue.  Many  experi- 
ments have  been  made  to  test  the  effect  of  the  bites  of  spi- 
ders on  animals.  Insects  succumb  most  readily  to  their 
bites,  some  sooner  than  others,  but  birds,  except  when  bitten 
by  the  larger  Mygale,  recover  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  hours. 
The  effect  upon  man,  even  when  the  bite  is  deep  enough  to 
draw  blood,  is  like  the  pricks  of  a  needle,  attended  by  little 
or  no  inflammation  or  pain.  Even  in  cases  where  death 
among  insects  and  birds  ensues  it  is  claimed  by  the  authori- 
ties, men  as  eminent  as  Blackwall,  Moggridge  and  Dufour, 
that  the  secretion  from  spiders'  jaws  is  not  poi'sonous,  but 
that  the  animals  die,  when  bitten,  from  loss  of  blood  and 
mechanical  injury. 

Such  is  the  prejudice  against  the  spider,  that  its  presence, 
no  matter  where  found,  whether  in  the  open  field  or  in  a 
corner  of  the  house,  is  an  inducement  for  its  inveterate 
enemy,  man,  to  sweep  it  to  the  ground  or  floor  and  crush 
its  frail  life  out  with  one  blow  of  the  foot.  Few  know,  or 


&4  Life  and  Immortality. 

care  to  know,  it  would  seem,  the  good  it  does  for  man. 
He  owes  to  it,  in  a  large  measure,  the  protection  of  his 
crops,  and  no  little  of  the  comfort  he  enjoys  in  life.  Spiders 
are  carnivorous  creatures,  and  destroy  vast  number  of  insects, 
many  of  which  are  man's  worst  enemies.  They  merit,  and 
deservingly,  too,  his  kindness  and  protection  for  the  benefits 
they  confer. 

Tarantulas  have  been  supposed  to  produce  epilepsy  by 
their  bites,  which  could  only  be  relieved  by  music  of  certain 
kinds.  Such  stories,  and  they  have  been  widely  circulated 
and  believed,  are  the  veriest  nonsense,  for  tarantula-bites 
produce  no  such  effects  nowadays.  These  spiders,  which 
live  in  holes  in  sand,  out  of  which  they  reach  after  passing 
insects,  are  no  more  savage  in  their  habits  than  other  spiders, 
for  Dufour,  a  celebrated  French  naturalist,  once  kept  one 
that  soon  learned  to  take  flies  from  his  fingers  without  mani- 
festing the  least  disposition  to  bite.  Different  species  quickly 
learn,  when  treated  with  kindness,  to  regard  man  as  their 
friend.  I  have  seen  Agalena  take  food  from  the  hand  out  of 
a  pair  of  forceps,  or  water  from  a  brush,  and  even  to  reach  on 
tiptoe  after  it  from  the  mouth  of  a  bottle  placed  for  her 
accommodation.  Though  naturally  timid  and  shy,  and  prone 
to  flee  to  her  funnel  on  man's  approach,  yet  she  has  been 
known  to  permit  the  most  unexpected  familiarities  without 
fear  or  resentment.  Many  a  female  has  taken  from  my 
hand  the  proffered  fly,  and  submitted  to  the  gentle  caresses 
of  my  finger  down  the  back  and  abdomen  with  the  most 
pleasurable  satisfaction.  They  have  come  at  the  sound  of 
my  voice,  dancing  upon  their  sheeted  web  like  one  gone 
mad,  so  perfectly  carried  away  with  delight.  An  interesting 
experience  of  last  summer  during  a  brief  stay  in  the  country 
seems  apropos  at  this  time.  While  sauntering  carelessly  along 
a  forest-road  I  came  unexpectedly  upon  a  rustic  bridge,  with 
a  railing  on  one  side,  which  overspanned  a  small  water- 
course. Leaning  for  rest  and  support  against  the  railing, 
soon  my  attention  was  arrested  by  a  huge  female  spider, 


Funnel-Web  Builder.  85 

which  I  recognized  as  Epeira  domiciliorum.  She  was  evidently 
in  quest  of  something,  as  I  was  led  to  suspect  from  her 
seemingly  thoughtful  and  deliberate  movements.  I  watched 
her  closely  and  criticisingly  for  a  long  while,  and  in  one  of 
her  contemplative  moods,  when  she  stood  perfectly  motion- 
less and  fixed  as  it  were  to  the  railing,  I  reached  out  my 
finger  rather  impulsively  and  began  stroking  her  along  the 
abdomen,  a  familiarity  which  she  did  not  resent,  and  which 
seemed  to  give  her  the  most  intense  delight.  When  the 
caressing  had  ceased,  she  would  turn  round  and  confront  her 
newly-made  acquaintance,  but  the  lifting  of  the  finger  was 
always  the  signal  for  her  to  assume  an  attitude  of  the  most 
perfect  quiescence.  That  she  enjoyed  these  little  attentions 
there  cannot  be  a  shadow  of  doubt,  or  actions  are  no  use  in 
the  interpretation  of  feeling.  Had  they  been  painful,  she 
would  have  sought  relief  in  flight,  or  in  the  manifestation  of 
an  untoward  disposition  towards  her  unintentional  persecutor. 


LIVING  in  chinks  and  crannies  of  ranges  in  our  homes, 
and  occasionally  in  bookcases  and  closets  where 
glutinous  and  sugary  matters  abound,  but  which  has  prob- 
ably not  been  met  with  elsewhere,  is  a  strange  but  beautiful 
little  creature  which,  as  far  as  can  be  determined,  goes 
through  the  brief  round  of  its  existence  without  a  name  to 
distinguish  it  from  its  fellows. 

Few  entomologists  have  given  any  special  attention  to  its 
family  relationships.  The  possession  of  certain  bristle-like 
appendages  which  terminate  the  abdomen,  and  which  are  no 
doubt  comparable  with  the  abdominal  legs  of  the  Myrio- 
pods,  or  Thousand  Legs,  classes  it  with  the  Bristle-tails,  or 
Lepismas.  In  general  form,  a  likeness  to  the  larva  of  Perla, 
a  net-veined  neuropterous  insect,  is  manifest,  or  to  the  narrow- 
bodied  species  of  Blattariae,  or  Cockroaches,  when  divested 
of  wings. 

Lepisma  saccharina,  of  Europe,  which  is  indistinguishable 
from  our  ordinary  American  form,  is  far  from  uncommon  in 
old,  damp  houses.  Its  structure  is  less  complicated  than 
the  heat-loving  species  to  which  I  have  alluded,  and  there 
are  likewise  differences  of  habits  which  show  themselves  to 
the  close  investigator  of  natural  phenomena. 

Not  unlike  the  cockroaches,  which  our  little  denizen  of 
the  hearth  somewhat  vaguely  resembles  in  form,  it  affects 
hot,  dry  localities,  and  is  always  astir  at  nights  in  quest  of 
its  fare,  for  it  disdains  the  light  of  the  day  and  the  conse- 
quent publicity  of  its  deeds  of  shame  and  plunder. 

Many  a  housewife  in  the  discharge  of  duty  has  unearthed, 
so  to  speak,  the  miscreant  from  its  hidden  retreat,  and  sought 


Book-Lovers.  87 

by  foot  or  hand  to  crush  the  life  that  dares  obtrude  its 
uncleanly  presence  ,in  her  larder,  but  the  cunning,  swift- 
footed  Lepisma  darts  off,  like  a  streak  of  light,  to  some 
near-by  crack  or  breach,  where  it  manages  to  hide  from 
threatening  danger.  The  bodies  of  these  nimble,  silent- 
moving  creatures  being  coated  in  a  suit  of  shining  mail, 
which  the  arrangement  of  the  scales  so  very  much  resembles, 
they  have  a  weird  and  ghostly  look.  This  appearance,  and 
the  swiftness  of  their  movement,  which  the  eye  can  hardly 
trace,  have  led  the  vivid  mind  of  man,  in  country  town  and 
village,  to  dub  them  "  silver  witches." 

So  fleet  of  foot  are  they,  and  so  like  a  wave  of  blurred 
light  they  cross  the  vision,  that  it  is  vain  to  try  to  figure 
what  they  are  in  shape  and  look.  In  death  they  yield  their 
all  of  earth  to  prying  science.  Their  body's  form  is  narrow, 
flattened;  their  legs  in  pairs  of  threes,  each  of  six  joints 
consisting,  the  basal  joints  broad,  flat,  triangular,  the  tarsal 
large,  in  number  two,  and  armed  at  end  with  pair  of  claws 
incurved.  The  three  thoracic  segments  are  very  like  in  size, 
and  eight  abdominals,  of  similar  length  and  width.  So  weak 
it  seems  the  rather  long  abdomen  is,  that  two  pairs  or  six  of 
bristles,  simple,  unjointed,  and  freely  movable,  serve  as 
support,  and  also,  as  in  other  groups  of  insects,  as  organs 
locomotive. 

The  mode  of  antenna-insertion — and  the  same  prevails  in 
the  entire  family — is  much  like  that  of  the  Myriopods,  the 
front  of  the  head  being  flattened  and  concealing,  as  in  the 
Centipedes,  the  base  of  the  antennae.  Indeed,  the  head  of 
any  of  the  Bristle-tails,  as  seen  from  above,  bears  a  general 
resemblance  in  some  of  its  features  to  that  of  the  Centipede 
and  its  allies,  and  so,  in  a  less  degree,  does  the  head  of 
the  larvae  of  certain  beetles  and  neuropters.  The  eyes  are 
compound,  the  individual  facets  constituting  a  sort  of  heap. 
The  mouth-parts  are  readily  compared  with  those  of  the 
larva  of  Perla,  the  rather  large,  stout  mandibles  being  hid  at 
their  tips  by  the  upper  lip,  which  moves  freely  up  and  down 


88  Life  and  Immortality. 

when  the  creature  opens  its  mouth.  In  length  the  mandible 
is  three  times  its  breadth,  and  furnished  with  three  sharp 
teeth  on  the  outer  edge,  and  with  a  broad  cutting  margin 
within,  and  still  further  inwards  with  a  number  of  straggling 
small  spines.  The  lower  lip  is  broad  and  stout,  with  a  dis- 
tinct medium  suture,  which  indicates  a  former  separation  in 
embryonic  life  into  a  pair  of  appendages.  Its  palpi  are  three- 
jointed,  the  joints  being  broad,  and  directed  backwards  in 
life,  and  not  forwards,  as  in  the  higher  insecta. 


LEPISMAS  AT  WORK. 
How  Books  are  Destroyed. 

Perhaps  not  more  than  a  half-dozen  species  of  Lepisma  are 
known  to  exist  in  this  country.  Our  commonest  form  is 
very  abundant  in  the  Middle  States  under  stones  and  leaves 
in  forests,  and  northward  in  damp  houses,  where  it  has  much 
of  the  habits  of  the  cockroach,  eating  clothes,  tapestry,  silken 
trimmings  of  furniture,  and  doing  great  mischief  to  libraries 
by  devouring  the  paste  and  mutilating  the  leaves  and  covers 
of  books.  Our  heat-loving  form,  which  is  apparently  allied 
to  the  Lepisma  thermophila  of  Europe,  and  which  may  be 
an  imported  species,  is  quite  as  destructive  as  its  nearest  of 
kin  Lepisma  saccharina.  It  does  not  confine  its  ravages  to 


Book-Lovers.  89 

closets  and  pantries,  and  feed  upon  sugar  and  cake  and 
pastry,  but  has  latterly  taken  to  bookcases,  where  it  leads 
an  easy,  comfortable  life,  without  fear  of  molestation. 

So  delicately  constructed  are  the  Lepismas,  and  so  seem- 
ingly feeble  the  breath  of  life  which  animates  their  frail  houses 
of  clay,  that  nature  has  endowed  them  with  qualities  of  mind 
and  body  which  eminently  fit  them  for  the  part  they  have 
to  play  in  the  world.  She  has  made  them  lovers  of  darkness 
rather  than  light,  endowed  them  with  keenness  of  vision  and 
hearing  truly  wonderful,  and  given  them  a  celerity  of  move- 
ment which  enables  them  to  outstrip  in  speed  the  fleetest 
of  their  insect-enemies,  and  even  to  baffle  the  well-directed 
efforts  of  man  for  their  destruction.  The  silver-coated  armor 
with  which  they  are  invested  is  so  glossy  and  smooth  that 
they  can  slip  into  a  crevice  in  the  wall  or  floor  with  the 
utmost  ease  and  facility.  From  their  actions  it  would  seem 
that  they  were  always  on  the  alert,  for  when  peril  is  imminent 
they  do  not  run  aimlessly  about  for  a  place  of  security,  but 
know  just  where  to  find  it  with  the  least  possible  expenditure 
of  time  and  physical  strength.  Every  nook  and  cranny  of 
their  appropriated  domain  is  as  well  known  to  these  very 
humble  of  God's  creatures  as  some  forest-tract  of  country  to 
one  skilled  in  wood-craft.  Never  have  I  studied  the  behavior 
of  Lepisma  that  I  have  not  been  deeply  impressed  with  the 
intelligence  of  its  actions.  There  have  always  been  displayed 
a  purpose  and  an  aim,  which  showed  as  plainly  as  could  be 
that  no  blind  instinct  was  the  cause  of  a  conduct  so  rational 
and  human-like. 


YOU-EE-UP. 


HARDLY  a  person  living  in  a  sandy  country  district 
can  be  found  who  has  not  seen  or  heard  of  the  queer 
little  insect  called  You-ee-up,  a  name  which  the  books  do  riot 
give,  and  of  which  writers  on  entomological  subjects  seem 
to  be  ignorant.  The  learned  call  him  Myrmeleon,  or  Ant- 
lion,  and  very  appropriately  too,  because,  like  the  great  king 
of  beasts,  he  never  attacks  his  prey  in  the  open  field,  but  by 
stratagem  while  lying  in  wait  in  some  hidden  retreat  or 
secret  covert. 

Should  you  chance,  on  a  warm  summer  day,  where  sunny 
slopes  abound  on  the  outskirts  of  a  woods,  or  by  the  side  of 
a  frequented  path  or  road,  look  carefully  about  and  soon  will 
you  descry  a  small  funnel-like  opening,  scarce  two  inches  in 
depth  and  in  width,  upon  a  bare  patch  of  sand  in  the  midst 
of  an  ocean  of  verdure.  This  little  cavity  is  the  intentional 
work  of  the  larva  of  the  Ant-lion.  A  very  close  scrutiny 
will  show,  by  the  presence  of  a  pair  of  fierce  jaws,  the  Ant- 
lion  at  home. 

Would  you  know  the  ingenious  builder  ?  Lift  him  out 
tenderly  from  his  burrow  of  sand,  and  when  you  have  placed 
him  upon  the  palm  of  your  wide  open  hand,  note  with  the 
most  careful  exactness  the  peculiar  make-up  of  his  structure, 
so  that  in  the  future  you  may  have  little  difficulty  in  recog- 
nizing him  should  you  again  meet. 

His  short,  flat  head,  armed  with  powerful  mandibles, 
heavy-set  chest,  and  large,  soft,  fleshy  abdomen,  amply  pro- 
tected on  the  sides  with  stiff,  bristly  hairs,  added  to  his 
compact,  robust  form,  the  forward  projection  of  his  front 


You-ee-up.  91 

and  middle  legs,  and  the  backward  prolongation  of  the 
stronger  and  less  movable  hind  ones,  which  eminently  adapts 
them  to  a  backward  manner  of  walking,  are  characters  which 
so  deeply  impress,  that  we  cannot  fail  to  call  up,  when  occa- 
sion demands,  the  possessor  of  so  wonderful  a  mechanism. 

Now  that  you  have  become  familiar  with  the  odd  creature 
in  form  and  in  mien,  set  him  once  more  upon  his  proud  realm 
of  sand,  and  seat  yourself  on  the  bank  close  by  to  watch 
and  enjoy  his  curious  behavior.  In  a  minute  or  two  his 


YOU-EE-UP  IN  HIS  DEN. 
As  He  Appears  in  Youth  and  Old  Age. 


fears  will  have  subsided,  and  he  in  control  again  of  his  accus- 
tomed indifference.  See,  he  moves.  Round  and  round  he 
turns  in  the  loose  grey  sand,  burying  himself  deeper  and 
deeper,  and  throwing  the  grains  out  from  the  hole  he  has 
made  by  his  twistings,  using  his  short,  flat  head  for  a  shovel. 
The  sand,  as  it  is  thrown  over  the  side  of  the  burrow,  forms 
quite  a  margin,  and  when  all  is  completed  the  Ant-lion  sinks 
himself  deep  into  the  bottom  of  the  trap  he  has  digged, 
leaving  only  the  tips  of  his  mandibles  in  sight,  which  are 
extended  and  ready  to  seize  any  insect  that  is  so  luckless  as 
to  fall  into  their  reach. 


92  Life  and  Immortality. 

The  unfortunate  ant  that  ventures  too  close  to  the  margin 
sets  the  sand  off  rolling,  and  it  immediately  begins  to  strug- 
gle against  falling  down,  but  the  Ant-lion  throws  a  few 
shovelfuls  of  sand  against  it,  and  it  soon  comes  tumbling 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  funnel,  when  it  is  instantly  seized 
between  the  sharp  mandibles  in  waiting,  which,  being  per- 
forated by  slender  tubes,  enable  their  blood-thirsty  owner 
to  suck  out  its  juices. 

Country  children,  and  adults  as  well,  manifest  a  deep  in- 
terest in  these  strange  beings.  They  call  them,  as  has  been 
intimated  before,  You-ee-ups.  How  the  name  originated,  and 
when,  I  do  not  pretend  to  know,  nor  have  I  been  able  upon 
inquiry  to  find  out  from  the  oldest  inhabitants  of  the  regions 
they  affect.  Old  men  and  old  women  in  the  seventies  and 
eighties  knew  these  insects  by  this  name  when  they  were 
children,  and  I  have  been  informed  that  they  were  always  so 
spoken  of  by  their  fathers  and  mothers. 

Even  the  insects  themselves  are  believed  to  know  the  odd 
name  by  which  they  are  designated.  So  fixed  is  the  belief 
in  the  minds  of  the  many  that,  to  contradict  it,  is  sure  to 
subject  the  person  so  rash  and  presumptuous  to  the  grossest 
abuse  from  the  friends  of  the  strange  little  creature.  They 
have  seen  him  in  his  sandy  retreat,  and  have  called  him  by 
name,  and  he  has  never  been  known  to  decline  a  response. 
"  You-ee-up,  you-ee-up,"  cries  one,  with  his  mouth  just  over 
the  opening,  and  up  comes  the  strange  "crittur"  as  obedient 
as  a  lackey.  "  You-ee-down,  you-ee-down,"  says  the  same 
childish  voice,  and  down  he  goes  to  his  den  to  await,  as  is 
thought,  the  giving  of  further  orders. 

That  the  Ant-lion  does  seem  to  respond  when  called, 
cannot  be  denied,  for  I  have  tried  the  experiment  myself, 
and  others  have  tried  it  in  my  presence,  and  always  with  the 
same  successful  results.  But  people  go  through  the  world 
not  only  with  their  eyes  closed  and  their  ears  sealed,  but  also 
with  their  minds  forever  locked  against  thinking,  lest,  by 
thinking,  they  might  do  themselves  serious  injury.  Had  but 


You-ee-up.  0,3 

a  little  of  thinking  been  done,  or  some  common  sense  exer- 
cised, the  solution  of  the  insect's  strange  actions  could  have 
been  reached  without  any  great  difficulty. 

Let  me  briefly  explain.  One  cannot  talk,  as  is  well  known, 
without  some  motion  being  imparted  to  the  outlying  air. 
This  moving  air  impinging  upon  the  loosely  arranged  sand 
piled  up  around  the  margin  of  the  tiny  pitfall,  dislodges 
some  particles,  and  these,  falling  into  the  jaws  of  the  hidden 
Ant-lion,  bring  him  to  the  surface,  for  he  ascribes  the  com- 
motion to  some  ill-fated  ant,  or  other  such  insect,  that  has, 
in  its  anxious  searching  for  food,  tumbled  unconsciously  into 
his  artfully-laid  trap.  In  a  moment  the  mistake  is  discovered, 
and,  with  all  possible  dispatch,  he  backs  himself  down  into 
his  den  to  await  further  developments.  His  appearance  on 
the  occasion  is  greeted  by  "  you-ee-down,  you-ee-down,"  and 
as  he  goes  down  apparently  in  obedience  to  the  order,  but 
really  because  it  is  a  matter  of  business  so  to  do,  it  is  claimed 
by  the  unlearned  and  unwise  that  his  movements  are  respon- 
sive to  the  command  of  the  person  by  whom  he  is  addressed. 

Two  years  of  larval  life,  and  the  subject  of  our  sketch  is 
lost  to  the  sight  of  the  rural  folks.  A  new  life,  where  feed- 
ing is  no  longer  necessary,  awaits  him,  but  one  in  which 
the  most  radical  changes  must  occur  if  he  is  to  fulfil  the 
existence  which  nature  designed  in  her  grand  scheme  of 
creation.  From  a  silk-gland,  which,  unlike  those  of  the  but- 
terflies and  moths,  is  situated  at  the  end  of  the  body,  he  spins 
a  cocoon,  but  there  being  so  little  of  silk  to  spare,  he  needs 
must  supply  the  deficiency  by  the  utilization  of  a  quantity  of 
sand,  which  he  glues  into  the  walls  of  his  house.  Here  he 
dwells  a  comparatively  inactive  pupa  for  three  brief  weeks, 
retaining  his  large,  powerful  mandibles  to  the  last,  which  he 
uses  in  cutting  his  way  out  of  the  cocoon,  when  he  is  ready 
to  emerge  as  a  winged  neuropter.  In  the  adult  form  he 
resembles  the  dragon-flies  in  flight,  flapping  wildly  and  irreg- 
ularly about,  as  if  his  muscles  were  too  weak  to  wield  his 
great  stretch  of  wings.  But  in  repose  his  alar  appendages 


94  Life  and  Immortality. 

are  folded  above  each  other,  forming  an  acute-angled  roof 
above  the  long,  slender  abdomen.  The  antennae  or  feelers 
are  short,  stout  and  club-shaped,  and  the  wings  long,  narrow 
and  densely  veined. 

Myrmeleon  obsoletus,  a  name  given  to  this  insect  by  Thomas 
Say,  a  naturalist  of  repute,  who  lived  in  Philadelphia  in  the 
early  half  of  the  present  century,  is  by  no  means  a  rare 
species,  if  search  is  made  in  the  proper  places.  In  the  cut 
the  larva  is  found  to  the  right  of  the  burrow,  while  deep  in 
the  bottom,  with  the  jaws  only  in  view,  is  another,  prepared 
to  receive  the  small  ant  just  above  should  it  lose  its  foothold 
and  tumble  into  the  trap.  On  the  wing,  a  little  in  the  back- 
ground of  the  picture,  may  be  seen  the  adult  insect,  repre- 
sented in  hawking  for  prey  over  a  meadowy  expanse  of 
country. 


WILLIAM 


OF  CALIFORNIA  HOSPITAL 
SAN  FRANCISCO 


CIGflDfl. 


allied  to  the  bugs  is  a  group  of  remarkable 
insects  to  which  naturalists  now  apply  the  name 
of  Cicada,  but  which  are  generally,  though  improperly, 
designated  Locust  by  the  common  people.  They  are  readily 
distinguished  by  their  broad  heads,  large  prominent  eyes, 
with  three  eyelets  triangularly  placed  between  them,  and 
delicately  transparent,  veined  wing-covers  and  wings.  The 
abdomen  is  short  and  pointed,  and  the  legs  are  short,  the 
anterior  femora  being  much  thickened  and  toothed  beneath. 
The  hinder  extremity  of  the  body  of  the  female  is  conical, 
and  the  under-side  has  a  longitudinal  channel  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  ovipositor,  or  piercer,  which  is  furthermore  pro- 
tected by  four  short-grooved  pieces  which  are  immovably 
fixed  to  the  sides  of  the  channel.  The  piercer  itself  consists 
of  two  outer  parts  grooved  on  the  inside  and  slightly 
enlarged  and  angular  at  the  tips,  which  are  externally  beset 
with  small  saw-like  teeth,  and  a  central  spear-pointed  borer 
which  plays  between  the  other  two,  thus  combining  the 
advantages  of  an  awl  and  a  double-edged  saw,  or  rather  of 
two  key-hole  saws  cutting  opposite  to  each  other.  A  hard, 
horny  substance,  called  chitine,  the  same  as  exists  in  the 
stings  of  bees  and  wasps,  is  the  material  of  its  composition. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  conceive  of  anything  more  exactly 
fitted  for  its  required  uses  than  is  this  beautiful  complicated 
instrument. 

But  the  most  peculiar  characteristic  of  this  family,  how- 
ever, consists  in  the  structure  of  the  mechanism  by  which 
the  males  make  the  trilling  sound  for  which  they  have  been 


96  Life  and  Immortality. 

so  long  famous.  In  the  male  of  the  Seventeen-year  Cicada 
the  musical  instrument  consists  of  two  stretched  membranes, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  body,  which  are  plainly  to  be  seen 
immediately  behind  the  wings.  These  membranes  are 
gathered  into  numerous  fine  plaits,  and  are  played  upon  by 
muscles  or  cords  fastened  to  their  under  surfaces.  When 
these  muscles  contract  and  relax,  which  they  do  with  great 
rapidity,  the  drum-heads,  which  the  membranes  resemble, 
are  alternately  tightened  and  loosened,  the  effect  of  this 
alternate  tension  and  relaxation  being  the  production  of  a 
rattling  sound  very  much  like  that  caused  by  a  succession 
of  quick  pressures  upon  a  slightly  complex  and  elastic  piece 
of  tin-plate.  Certain  cavities  within  the  body  of  the  insect, 
which  may  be  seen  on  raising  two  large  valves  beneath  the 
abdomen,  and  which  are  separated  from  each  other  by  thin 
transparent  partitions  of  the  brilliancy  of  mica  or  highly 
polished  glass,  tend  to  increase  the  intensity  of  the  sound. 

In  the  winged  state  Cicada  septendecim,  as  the  subject  of 
our  sketch  was  named  by  the  immortal  Linnaeus,  is  of  a  black 
color,  with  transparent  wings  and  wing-covers,  the  thick 
anterior  edge  and  veins  of  which  being  orange-red.  Near 
the  tips  of  the  latter  there  is  a  dusky  zig-zag  line  which 
resembles  in  shape  the  letter  W.  The  eyes,  when  living,  are 
also  red,  while  the  legs  are  a  dull  orange,  which  color  is 
conspicuous  along  the  edges  of  the  rings  of  the  body.  The 
wings  expand  from  two  and  a  half  to  three  and  a  quarter 
inches. 

About  the  middle  of  June  the  perfect  insects  make  their 
appearance,  and  as  they  generally  come  in  large  numbers 
they  do  a  great  deal  of  damage.  In  some  localities  they 
congregate  to  such  an  extent  upon  the  trees  as  to  bend  and 
even  to  break  down  the  limbs  by  their  weight.  The  din  of 
their  discordant  drums  resounds  in  the  woods  and  orchards 
from  morning  to  evening.  As  their  life  is  of  rather  short 
duration,  not  lasting  for  a  longer  period  than  a  month,  they 
soon  begin  to  pair,  and  it  is  not  long  afterwards  that  the 


Tower-Building  Cicada. 

ti.  j 


SEVENTEEN-YEAR  CICADA. 
Adult,  Chrysalis-Case,  Pupa,  Entrances  to  Burrows  and  Egg-Nests. 

females  may  be  seen  preparing  nests  for  the  reception  of 
their  eggs.  Branches  of  moderate  size  are  selected  for  this 
purpose.  Their  manner  of  perforation  is  curious  and  inter- 
esting. Clasping  the  branch  on  both  sides  with  their  legs, 
and  bending  the  ovipositor  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees, 
they  repeatedly  thrust  it  into  the  bark  and  wood  in  the 
direction  of  the  fibres,  at  the  same  time  setting  the  lateral 
saws  at  work,  thereby  detaching  little  splinters  of  wood  at 
one  end,  which  are  intended  to  serve  as  a  kind  of  fibrous 
cover  for  the  nest.  The  hole  is  bored  obliquely  to  the  pith, 
and  by  a  repetition  of  the  same  operation  is  gradually 
enlarged  until  is  formed  a  longitudinal  fissure  of  sufficient 


98  Life  and  Immortality. 

extent  to  receive  from  ten  to  twenty  eggs.  The  side-pieces 
of  the  piercer  act  as  a  groove  to  convey  the  eggs  to  the  nest, 
where  they  are  deposited  in  pairs,  but  separated  from  each 
other  by  a  narrow  strip  of  wood.  When  two  eggs  have  been 
thus  placed,  the  piercer  is  withdrawn  for  a  moment,  and  then 
inserted  till  two  more  eggs  are  dropped  in  a  line  with  the 
first,  and  thus  the  operation  is  repeated  until  the  fissure  has 
been  filled,  when  the  insect  removes  to  a  little  distance  and 
commences  to  make  another  nest  to  contain  two  more  rows 
of  eggs.  It  takes  about  fifteen  minutes  to  prepare  a  groove 
and  fill  it  with  eggs.  As  many  as  twenty  grooves  are  some- 
times made  in  a  branch  by  a  single  insect,  and  when  the  limb 
has  been  sufficiently  stocked  she  goes  from  it  to  another, 
or  from  tree  to  tree,  until  she  has  got  rid  of  her  complement 
of  from  five  hundred  to  seven  hundred  eggs.  So  weak  does 
she  at  length  become,  in  her  continued  endeavor  to  provide 
for  the  succession  of  her  race,  as  to  fall,  in  an  attempt  to  fly, 
an  almost  lifeless  lump  to  the  earth,  where  her  spirit  soon 
goes  out  never  more  to  enliven  its  frail  house  of  clay. 

Although  Cicadas  abound  most  upon  the  oaks,  yet 
there  seem  to  be  no  trees  or  shrubs  that  are  exempt  from 
their  attacks,  unless  it  be  the  various  species  of  pines  and 
firs.  The  punctured  limbs  languish  and  die  soon  after  the 
eggs  are  laid,  and  as  often  happens  are  broken  off  by  the 
winds ;  but  when  this  is  the  case  the  eggs  never  hatch,  for 
the  moisture  of  the  living  branch  seems  necessary  for  their 
proper  development. 

The  eggs  are  one-twelfth  of  an  inch  in  length,  and  one- 
sixteenth  of  an  inch  through  the  middle,  but  taper  to  an 
obtuse  point  at  each  end.  They  are  of  a  pearl-white  color. 
The  shell  is  so  thin  and  delicate  that  the  form  of  the  inclosed 
insect  can  be  seen  before  the  egg  is  hatched.  One  writer 
claims  that  fifty-two  days,  and  others  that  fourteen  days, 
constitute  the  period  required  for  the  hatching  of  the  egg. 

When  it  bursts  the  shell  the  young  insect  is  one-sixteenth 
of  an  inch  long,  and  is  of  a  yellowish-white  color,  excepting 


Tower-Building  Cicada.  99 

the  eyes  and  the  claws  of  the  fore-legs,  which  are  reddish. 
It  is  clothed  with  small  hairs.  In  form  it  is  grub-like,  larger 
proportionally  than  the  parent,  and  provided  with  six  legs, 
the  first  pair  being  very  large,  shaped  like  lobster-claws,  and 
armed  beneath  with  strong  spines.  Little  prominences  take 
the  place  of  wings,  and  under  the  breast  is  a  long  beak  for 
suction.  Its  movements,  after  leaving  the  egg,  are  very 
lively,  and  nearly  as  quick  as  some  of  the  ants.  But  after 
a  few  moments  their  instincts  prompt  them  to  reach  the 
ground.  They  do  not  attain  this  end  by  descending  the 
body  of  the  tree,  nor  by  casting  themselves  off  precipitately, 
but,  running  to  the  side  of  the  limb,  deliberately  loosen  their 
hold  and  drop  to  the  ground,  making  the  perilous  descent 
with  the  utmost  safety.  This  seems  almost  incredible,  but 
it  has  been  repeatedly  observed  by  scores  of  honest  witnesses. 


NEW-BORN  CICADA. 
Line  Below  Shows  Natural  Size. 

On  reaching  the  ground  the  young  insects  immediately 
burrow  their  way  into  the  soil,  using  their  broad  and  strong 
fore-feet  pretty  much  after  the  fashion  of  the  mole.  They 
apparently  follow,  in  their  descent,  the  roots  of  plants,  fasten- 
ing their  beaks  into  the  most  tender  and  succulent,  and  thus 
imbibing  their  juices,  which  constitute  their  sole  aliment. 
They  do  not  descend  very  deeply  into  the  ground,  probably 
not  more  than  ten  or  twelve  inches,  although  accounts  have 
been  published  of  their  discovery  at  a  depth  of  ten  or  twelve 
feet,  but  their  occurrence  at  such  great  distances  from  the  top 
of  the  ground  is  doubtless  the  result  of  accident. 

The  only  alteration  to  which  the  insects  are  subject  during 
the  seventeen  years  of  their  subterranean  confinement,  is  an 


IOO  Life  and  Immortality. 

increase  in  size,  and  the  more  complete  development  of  the 
four  small  scale-like  prominences  of  the  back,  which  contain 
their  future  wings. 

When  the  time  of  its  transformation  draws  near,  the  larva, 
in  which  stage  the  insect  passes  the  greater  part  of  its  exist- 
ence, works  its  way  up  towards  the  surface,  oftentimes  in  a 
very  circuitous  manner,  for  local  changes  make  it  necessary 
for  it  to  bore  through  hard  woods  and  between  stones  well 
beaten  down.  The  burrow  which  it  thus  produces  is  cylin- 
drical, about  five-eighths  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  firmly 
cemented  and  varnished  so  as  to  be  water-proof.  The  upper 
portion,  to  the  extent  of  five  or  six  inches,  is  empty,  and 
serves  as  a  habitation  till  the  period  of  its  exit  arrives,  while 
the  lower  is  filled  with  earthy  matter  removed  by  the  insect 
in  its  progress.  In  this  cell  it  remains  during  several  days, 
ascending  to  the  top  for  the  benefit  of  the  sunshine  and  air 
when  the  weather  is  auspicious,  even  venturing  to  peep  forth 
occasionally,  but  descending  on  the  occurrence  of  cold  or  wet 
weather.  But  when  the  favorable  moment  to  leave  their 
subterranean  retreats  arrives,  the  Cicada-grubs,  or  more 
properly  pupae,  for  such  they  are  now  to  be  considered, 
although  they  still  retain  something  of  the  grub-like  form, 
issue  from  the  ground  in  great  numbers  as  evening  draws  on, 
crawl  up  the  trunks  of  trees,  the  stems  of  herbaceous  plants, 
or  on  to  whatever  is  convenient,  which  they  grasp  securely 
with  their  claws.  After  resting  awhile,  their  skins,  which 
have  become  dry  and  of  an  amber  color,  are  by  repeated  exer- 
tions rent  along  the  back,  and  through  the  slit  formed  the 
included  Cicada  pushes  its  head  and  body,  and  withdraws  its 
wings  and  legs  from  their  separate  cases,  and,  crawling  to  a 
short  distance,  leaves  its  empty  pupa-case  fastened  to  the 
tree.  At  first  the  wing-covers  and  wings  are  small  and 
opaque,  but  in  a  few  hours  they  acquire  their  natural  size 
and  shape.  It  is  not,  however,  for  three  or  four  days  that 
the  muscles  harden  sufficiently  for  them  to  assume  their 
characteristic  flight.  The  males  make  their  appearance 


Tower-Building  Cicada. 


101 


DOME-LIKE  HOUSE  OF  CICADA. 
Longitudinal  Section  Showing  Pupa  in  Two  Positions. 

some  days  in  advance  of  the  females,  and  also  disappear 
sooner.  During  several  successive  nights  the  pupae  con- 
tinue to  issue  from  the  ground,  and  in  some  places,  as  was 
the  case  in  May  of  1868,  when  these  insects  appeared  in 
great  numbers  in  the  vicinity  of  Philadelphia,  the  whole  sur- 
face of  the  soil  was  made  by  their  operations  to  assume  a 
honey-combed  appearance. 

In  localities  where  the  soil  is  low  and  swampy,  a  remark- 
able chamber  is  built  up  by  the  larva,  where  the  pupa  may 
be  found  awaiting  the  time  of  its  change  to  the  winged  state. 
These  chambers  were  first  noticed  by  S.  S.  Rathvon,  at  Lan- 
caster, Pa.,  and  are  from  four  to  six  inches  above  the  ground, 
and  have  a  diameter  of  one  inch  and  a  quarter.  When 
ready  to  emerge  the  insect  backs  down  to  an  opening  which 
is  left  in  the  side  of  the  structure  on  a  level  with  the  surface 
of  the  ground,  issues  forth  and  undergoes  its  transformation 
in  the  usual  manner.  This  peculiar  habit  of  nest-building, 
which  is  so  unlike  what  is  customary  with  the  Cicadidae,  or 
with  Hemiptera  in  general,  points  to  a  high  degree  of  intelli- 
gence among  these  insects,  showing  a  remarkable  ability  to 
adapt  themselves  to  environing  circumstances.  Undue 
moisture  would  be  prejudicial  to  the  pupa,  as  the  larva 


IO2  Life  and  Immortality. 

seemed  to  know,  through  the  guidance  of  the  same  dumb 
and  unerring  instinct  which  teaches  it  to  cement  its  under- 
ground dwelling,  but  would  that  same  instinct  teach  it  to 
construct  so  wonderful  a  dome-like  house  as  the  one 
described  for  the  preservation  of  its  after-life,  and  one  so 
eminently  fitted  by  its  position,  shape,  size  and  entrance  to 
secure  the  necessary  shelter,  warmth  and  air  for  its  protection 
and  development  ?  I  apprehend  not.  Nothing  short  of  a 
reason,  similar  to  that  in  man,  but  differing  in  degree,  would 
enable  it  to  grasp  the  situation  in  which  it  found  itself  to  be 
placed  when  nearing  its  final  change,  and  plan  with  the  view 
of  carrying  out  the  ultimate  aim  of  its  existence. 

Fortunately,  these  insects  are  appointed  to  return  at 
periods  so  distant  that  vegetation  has  a  chance  to  recover 
from  the  injuries  which  they  inflict.  Were  they  to  appear 
at  shorter  intervals,  our  forest-  and  fruit-trees  would  be 
entirely  destroyed  by  them.  They  are,  moreover,  subject 
to  many  accidents,  and  have  many  enemies,  which  contribute 
to  diminish  their  numbers.  Their  eggs  are  eaten  by  birds, 
and  the  young,  when  they  leave  the  egg,  are  preyed  upon 
by  ants,  who  mount  the  trees  for  that  purpose,  or  take  them 
upon  the  ground  as  they  are  about  to  enter  upon  their  pro- 
tracted larval  career.  Blackbirds  eat  them  in  the  spring 
when  turned  up  by  the  plough,  and  hogs,  when  allowed  to 
run  at  large  in  the  woods,  root  them  up  and  devour  large 
numbers,  especially  just  before  the  arrival  of  the  period  of 
their  final  transformation,  when  they  are  lodged  only  a  few 
inches  below  the  surface  of  the  soil.  Many  perish  in  the 
egg  by  the  closing  up  of  the  bark  and  wood  that  constitute 
the  walls  of  the  perforations,  thus  burying  the  eggs  before 
they  have  hatched,  and  others,  no  doubt,  are  killed  by  their 
perilous  descent  from  the  trees. 

As  its  name  implies,  this  insect  generally  requires  seven- 
teen years  to  complete  its  transformations,  a  fact  that  was 
first  pointed  out  many  years  ago  by  the  botanist  Kalm.  The 
late  Prof.  Riley,  who  had  given  this  species  a  great  deal  of 


Tower-Building  Cicada.  103 

study,  was  the  first  to  work  out  the  problem  of  its  periodical 
returns.  He  found  that  there  are  also  thirteen-year  broods, 
and  that  both  sometimes  occur  in  the  same  locality,  but  that 
in  general  terms  the  thirteen-year  brood  might  be  called  the 
southern  form,  and  the  seventeen-year  the  northern  form. 
At  the  limits  of  their  respective  ranges  these  broods  overlap 
each  other.  The  shorter-lived  form  he  named  provisionally 
Cicada  tredecim.  It  was  the  existence  of  this  brood  that 
led  entomologists  to  doubt  the  propriety  of  Linne's  name, 
because,  in  calculating  each  appearance  as  occurring  in  any 
locality  at  the  end  of  every  seventeen  years,  they  could  not 
make  the  dates  of  its  periodical  returns  correct.  But  it  was 
Prof.  Riley  that  cleared  up  the  matter.  It  happened  in  the 
summer  of  1868  that  one  of  the  largest  seventeen-year 
broods  occurred  simultaneously  with  one  of  the  largest 
thirteen-year  broods.  Such  an  event,  so  far  as  these  two 
particular  broods  are  concerned,  has  not  taken  place  since 
1647,  nor  will  it  take  place  again  till  the  year  2089.  There 
are  absolutely  no  specific  differences  between  the  two  broods 
other  than  in  the  time  of  maturing.  There  is,  however,  a 
dimorphous  form  that  appears  with  both  these  broods.  It 
is  smaller,  of  a  much  darker  color,  has  an  entirely  different 
voice,  appears  a  fortnight  sooner,  and  is  never  known  to 
pair  with  the  ordinary  form.  Dr.  J.  C.  Fisher,  in  1851, 
described  it  as  Cicada  cassinii,  but  the  specific  differences 
are  not  sufficiently  well  defined  to  entitle  it  to  rank  as  a 
species. 


HOHEY-DEW. 


THAT  aphides  secrete,  or  rather  excrete,  a  saccharine 
fluid,  called  honey-dew,  which  constitutes  an  import- 
ant part  of  the  food  of  ants,  is  a  fact  well  known  to  natural- 
ists. It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  this  was  its 
primitive  use.  But  that  it  is  in  some  way  connected  with 
the  preservation  of  the  tender  creatures  by  which  it  is  elabo- 
rated, there  can  exist  not  the  slightest  doubt. 

Concerning  its  origin  and  application,  and  the  benefit 
which  it  secures  to  its  authors,  various  opinions  have  been 
hazarded,  but  they  have  all  been  too  unsatisfactory  to  merit 
more  than  a  passing  notice.  That  it  was  of  some  advantage 
to  young  aphides  was  surmised  by  many,  but  the  proofs 
necessary  to  sustain  such  a  surmise  were  unfortunately  want- 
ing. It  was  left  to  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century 
to  throw  correct  light  upon  the  subject. 

Whilst  engaged  some  few  years  ago  in  the  study  of  the 
species  that  affects  the  blossoms  of  one  of  our  gourds — the 
Cucurbita  ovifera  of  botanists — certain  phenomena  were  ob- 
served, which  promised  an  easy  and  speedy  solution  of  the 
problem. 

Gathered  in  compact  masses,  like  companies  of  soldiery 
preparing  for  a  foray,  hundreds  of  aphides  were  seen,  busily 
feeding,  all  over  the  flowers.  There  were  old  and  young, 
not  an  indiscriminate  mingling  of  ages  and  sizes,  but  an 
orderly  arrangement  of  families,  each  family  preceded  by  its 
own  appropriate  head.  First  came  the  very  young  of  each 
family,  only  to  be  followed  by  those  that  were  older,  leaving 
the  oldest  of  all  to  lead  up  the  rear. 


Honey-Dew. 


105 


BLOSSOM  OF  CUCURBITA. 
Mother-Aphis  and  Her  Army  of  Children  on  Tube. 


Here,  it  was  apparent,  was  a  most  wonderful  manifestation 
of  intelligent  design.  The  newly-born,  needing  the  mother's 
earliest  attention,  were  in  closest  proximity,  while  the  almost 
mature  were  the  farthest  removed  from  her  essential 
presence. 

All  this  seemed  to  indicate  the  dearest  relationship  sub- 
sisting between  mother  and  offspring,  but  judging  from  out- 
ward appearances,  little,  if  any,  love  existed.  It  is  true  that 
maternal  instinct,  which  is  seldom  so  far  gone  as  to  shut  its 
ears  to  the  beseechings  of  suffering  offspring  for  food,  was 
far  from  being  absent.  Instances  of  its  presence  were 
momentarily  noted. 

But  a  stimulus  seemed,  in  some  cases,  quite  necessary  to 
its  manifestation.  There  were  times  when  the  honey-glands 
acted  without  any  provocation.  It  was  only,  however,  when 


io6  Life  and  Immortality. 

the  very  tender  were  a-hungry,  that  pressure  was  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  mothers.  A  few  gentle  reminders  served  to 
arouse  them  from  the  apathetic  indifference  which  possessed 
them.  The  antennae  of  the  young  were  the  means  employed 
for  this  purpose.  Two  or  three  caresses  almost  immediately 
brought  a  discharge  of  honey.  Again  and  again  was  the 
process  observed,  and  always  with  the  same  invariable  result. 

Never  for  a  longer  period  than  two  days  were  the  very 
young  dependent  upon  this  manner  of  feeding,  for  their 
digestive  organs  were  too  weak  and  delicate  to  assimilate 
earlier,  without  injury,  the  powerful  juices  of  the  food-plant. 

But  what  of  the  older  offspring  ?  That  they  were  far  from 
being  disregarded  by  parental  provision,  subsequent  develop- 
ments only  too  plainly  showed.  The  excretion,  though  less 
urgent  in  their  case  than  in  that  of  the  very  young,  was 
quite  as  indispensable.  Were  it  not  so,  what  reason  can  be 
assigned  for  their  very  strict  adherence  to  the  course  over 
which  the  maternal  head  had  already  passed  in  feeding? 

From  what  has  been  said,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
newly-born  aphis  derives  material  advantage  from  the  excre- 
tion. But  as  the  supply  is  clearly  above  the  requirements, 
why  the  excess  ?  It  is  evident  nature  does  not  need  it  as  a 
kind  of  compensation  for  losses  sustained  through  aphides. 
Then  what  purpose  does  it  serve  ?  It  becomes  in  part  the 
pabulum  of  the  stronger  of  the  young,  and  this  it  accom- 
plishes by  mixing  with  the  natural  juices  of  the  plant, 
thereby  rendering  them  fit  for  use. 

To  serve  as  food  for  the  young  is  then  the  primary  object 
of  aphis-excretion.  That  a  secondary  purpose,  namely,  the 
preservation  of  the  species,  is  also  subserved,  there  can  be  no 
question.  How  this  is  effected,  it  shall  now  be  my  endeavor 
to  show. 

Ants,  it  is  well  known,  are  fond  of  sugar,  gums  and 
saccharine  solutions,  as  well  as  the  rich  juices  and  tender 
tissues  of  animals.  But  their  appetite  for  sweets  is  stronger 
than  for  all  other  diets.  To  them  aphis  would  prove  quite 


Honey-Dew,  107 

as  toothsome  a  morsel  as  it  is  to  Coccinella,  and  would  be 
as  eagerly  hunted  for  by  them  were  it  not  for  this  matter  of 
sweets. 

Way  back  in  the  history  of  time,  things  were  perhaps  differ- 
ent from  what  they  are  now.  Aphis  was  then  a  racy  tidbit, 
and  shared,  no  doubt,  the  murderous  assaults  of  Formica,  as 
it  did  of  other  carnivores. 

For  ages  this  may  have  been  going  on,  but  how  long 
conjecture  only  can  tell.  But  there  came  a  time  when  affairs 
were  changed.  A  new  order  of  things  was  initiated.  Earth 
was  growing  better  and  impressing  new  features  upon  its  life. 
An  Ant,  more  wise  than  any  of  its  fellows,  or  any  that  had  ever 
lived  before,  doubtless  stepped  upon  the  scene,  and  a  new  era 
for  Aphis  inaugurated. 

Finding  by  accident,  or  otherwise,  the  delightful  qualities 
of  aphis-excretion,  it  would  not  be  slow  to  communicate  the 
information  to  its  companions.  And  as  news  travels  rapidly, 
and  ants  are  by  no  means  reticent  creatures,  but  a  short 
time  would  be  necessary  to  carry  it  everywhere,  till  all  the 
families,  near  and  remote,  of  the  great  world  of  the  Formi- 
cidae  would  be  made  acquainted  with  the  important 
discovery. 

Now,  as  ants  are  endowed  with  a  high  degree  of  intelli- 
gence, considering  the  position  they  occupy  in  the  grand 
scale  of  created  existences,  they  would  soon  perceive  that 
their  highest  good  would  be  attained  by  taking  under  their 
protection  the  little  creatures  which  are  the  authors  of  this 
excretion.  From  this  time  the  ants  would  begin  to  abandon 
their  sanguinary  propensities  and  manifest  some  regard  for 
the  aphides.  The  latter,  in  return,  perceiving  the  former's 
friendly  disposition,  would  cease  to  fear  them,  and  learn  to 
cater  to  their  wants.  Thus  would  be  developed,  in  time, 
those  amicable  relations  which  subsist  between  the  two 
great,  yet  widely  differentiated,  families. 


JWIIiCH-COWS  Of  THE  AfiTS. 


WHILE  much  has  been  written  upon  the  social  rela- 
tions subsisting  between  ants  and  aphides,  yet  the 
subject  never  grows  uninteresting  or  threadbare.  New  facts 
are  brought  to  light  as  observations  widen  and  extend,  some 
tending  to  confirm,  and  others  to  subvert  old  notions. 

That  aphides  excrete  a  sweet,  viscid,  honey-like  fluid, 
which  affords  food  for  many  species  of  ants,  has  been  long 
known  to  naturalists.  Any  one  can  convince  himself  of  this 
truth  if  he  will  but  put  himself  to  the  trouble  of  examining 
the  leaves  or  branchlets  of  any  plant  at  the  proper  season  of  the 
year.  Scattered  upon  the  foliage  and  tender  twigs  thereof  will 
be  found  millions  of  aphides,  and  close  beside  them  countless 
ants,  that  ever  and  anon  will  be  seen  to  caress,  by  means  of 
their  antennae,  the  little  creatures  for  the  sweets  within  their 
bodies.  It  has  even  been  asserted  that  some  species  of  ants 
keep  aphides  as  human  beings  do  cows,  but  this  by  the 
many  has  been  doubted,  or  deemed  imaginary. 

When  a  young  man  the  writer  was  disposed  to  drift  with 
the  popular  opinion  in  this  particular,  but  a  few  facts  that 
fell  under  his  notice  whilst  searching  for  carabi  and  other 
beetles  that  live  under  stones  and  decayed  logs,  changed  the 
bias  of  his  mind  and  established  in  him  the  idea  that  with 
one  species  of  ant  this  was  at  least  the  case. 

It  was  on  an  occasion  while  exploring  a  neighboring 
thicket  for  the  objects  of  his  search,  that  he  discovered, 
underneath  a  large  flat  stone  which  he  had  raised,  a  nest  of 
a  small  red  ant,  which  he  took  to  be  the  Lasius  flavus  of  the 
books.  The  ground  was  covered  all  over  with  pits,  and 


Milch-Cows  of  the  Ants. 


NEST  OF  LASIUS. 
Neuters  About  Their  Work. 


109 


divers  communicating  roads,  and  round  about  were  hundreds 
of  ants,  larvse  in  various  stages  of  development,  pupae  and 
eggs,  and  innumerous  flocks  of  a  white  aphis,  all  of  which 
were  being  tenderly  cared  for  by  a  large  army  of  thoughtful 
nurses. 

No  sooner  did  the  intrusion  occur  than  the  colony  was  a 
scene  of  busy  activity.  Interested  in  what  was  before  him, 
the  writer  seated  himself  upon  a  small  mound  overlooking 
the  nest,  where  could  be  clearly  observed  the  minutest  de- 
tails of  ant-life.  The  neuters  were  everywhere  to  be  noticed, 
but  hot  a  single  male  or  female  ant.  All  the  work  devolved 
upon  the  neuters.  These  were  divided  into  three  sets,  each 
set  having  a  definite  part  to  perform  in  the  unexpected  drama 
before  it.  Some  neuters  had  the  exclusive  charge  of  the 
mature  larvae,  others  of  the  pupae  and  very  young  grubs, 
and  the  rest  of  their  aphidian  herds. 

But  it  is  to  those  that  had  the  care  of  the  aphides  that  we 
shall  particularly  invite  attention.  At  the  time  of  the  disturb- 
ance, these  specialized  neuters  were  busy  milking  their  cows, 
which  they  did  by  rubbing  their  long,  pliant  feelers  against 


no  Life  and  Immortality. 

the  anal  nipples  of  the  latter,  drawing  therefrom,  as  it 
seemed,  a  drop  of  the  coveted  fluid  with  each  antennal  stroke. 
No  aphis  was  known  to  be  visited  in  this  business  twice  in 
succession,  but  the  ants  would  go  from  one  to  another,  and 
only  return  to  the  first  when  sufficient  time  had  elapsed  for 
the  replenishing  of  its  store.  So  intent  were  they  upon  their 
task,  that  several  minutes  must  have  passed  before  they  took 
in  the  danger  to  which  they  were  exposed. 

You  should  then  have  seen  their  anxiety,  and  the  presence 
of  mind  they  exhibited.  Conscious  as  of  attack,  and  knowing 
the  peril  that  beset  them,  they  did  not  flee  to  their  under- 
ground galleries,  or  to  the  adjoining  grasses,  for  shelter,  and 
thus  leave  their  flocks  to  the  mercy  of  the  invader,  but  they 
manifested  the  deepest  concern  for  the  little  creatures,  so 
unable  to  defend  themselves,  that  had  so  willingly  catered 
to  their  temporal  wants.  Not  an  ant  was  seen  to  desert  its 
post,  but  all  remained  on  duty  till  the  last  of  their  proteges 
was  carried  to  safe  and  comfortable  apartments  in  the  ground 
beneath. 

What  clearer  evidence  is  wanted  to  show  the  love  these 
neuters  bear  the  tender  objects  of  their  care  ?  It  must  be 
plain  that  man  bestows  not  half  the  attention  upon  his  flocks 
than  do  these  ants  on  theirs.  It  is  true  they  do  not  bring 
them  food,  but  that  they  build  their  homes  where  food,  the 
roots  of  herbs  and  grasses,  abound,  there  is  no  doubt.  It 
may  be,  too,  that  they  are  carried  to  their  pasture-grounds, 
when  that  necessity  occurs,  but  this  cannot  with  truth  be 
said.  When  some  would  stray,  they  were  returned  within 
the  fold,  which  shows  the  watch  these  ants  do  exercise. 

Concluding  then,  this  much  may  be  averred  :  food,  whole- 
some, sweet,  nutritious  food,  the  aphides  supply  to  ants,  the 
neuters  and  the  young,  but  specially  the  young.  And  that 
they  lead  most  happy,  prosperous  lives,  the  ants  their  mas- 
ters, must  surely  be,  or  looks  deceive. 


NO  more  remarkable  creature  exists,  perhaps,  than  the 
little  Brachinus  fumans,  which  is  so  very  common  in 
the  early  spring.  Damp  situations  are  affected  by  it,  but  it 
is  seldom  met  with  except  by  insect-hunters,  for  it  conceals 
itself  generally  under  stones,  as  many  as  a  half-dozen  indi- 
viduals often  being  found  in  company  in  a  single  locality. 
Banks  of  tidal  rivers  afford  excellent  hunting-grounds  in 
England  for  Brachinus,  but  in  America  low,  dank  woods  and 
borders  of  streams  are  the  places  where  one  must  look  to 
discover  its  presence. 

When  once  you  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  so  remark- 
able a  stranger  you  can  never  afterwards  fail  to  recognize  him 
in  your  travels.  He  is  peculiar,  but  not  at  all  distinguished 
in  looks,  as  some  of  his  brethren.  Picture  a  yellowish-red 
beetle,  with  a  bluish  frock-coat,  which  his  wing-covers  resem- 
ble, and  possessed  of  a  short,  narrow  head,  a  heart-shaped 
prothorax,  as  the  front  of  the  chest-segments  is  called,  and  a 
long,  broad  abdomen,  three  times  the  size  of  the  rest  of  his 
body,  and  you  have  a  tolerably  fair  idea  of  Brachinus. 

But  it  is  not  so  much  his  odd  shape  as  a  most  extraordi- 
nary property  he  possesses,  which  is  singularly  unique  in  the 
animal  kingdom,  that  makes  him  an  object  of  interest  and 
curiosity.  Deep  down  in  his  most  marvellous  body  a  fluid, 
highly  volatile  in  its  nature,  is  elaborated,  which  the  little 
creature  can  retain  or  expel  at  his  pleasure.  It  is  only,  how- 
ever, when  alarmed  that  he  utilizes  this  fluid  in  small  quan- 
tities in  defense,  but  its  effect  is  wonderful,  for  in  coming  into 
contact  with  the  atmosphere  it  immediately  volatilizes  and 


1 1 2  Life  and  Immortality. 

explodes,  looking  very  much  like  a  discharge  of  powder  from 
a  miniature  artillery.  In  consequence  of  this  phenomenon  the 
insect  which  produces  it  is  popularly  called  the  Bombardier 
Beetle. 

So  small  a  coleopter,  being  scarcely  one-fourth  of  an  inch 
in  length,  and  so  comparatively  weak,  is  likely  to  be  attacked 
by  the  larger  Geodephaga,  or  Earth  Devourers,  and  espe- 
cially by  the  Carabi,  which  inhabit  similar  retreats.  But  for 
this  curious  defence  the  smaller  insect  could  have  but  the 


BRACHINUS  PURSUED  BY  AN  ENEMY. 
His  Curious  and  Unique  Method  of  Defence. 


barest  chance  of  living  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  Often 
have  I  seen  a  Carabus  in  hot  pursuit  of  Brachinus.  The 
chase  is  always  an  interesting  one,  and  never  fails,  however 
frequently  it  has  been  observed,  of  attracting  attention  and 
exciting  admiration.  But  the  wide-awake,  ever  watchful 
Brachinus  never  loses  his  head  for  a  second  when  thus  pur- 
sued, but  like  the  clever  artilleryman  that  he  is,  awaits  the 
opportune  moment,  and  then  pours  a  heavy  discharge  of  his 
fulminating  fluid  into  the  very  face  of  the  enemy.  Baffled, 


Living  Artillery.  113 

alarmed,  Carabus  desists  from  the  attack,  and  backs  slowly 
away  from  the  tiny  blue  smoke,  while  Brachinus,  in  the  con- 
fusion that  ensues,  escapes  to  some  place  of  security  for  rest 
and  protection. 

Most  skilfully  has  the  artist  delineated  the  scene.  Cara- 
bus serratus,  the  pursuing  beetle,  is  chasing  the  Bombardier, 
and  has  nearly  effected  his  capture,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  a 
discharge  of  artillery  has  stopped  the  pursuit,  under  cover 
of  which  the  Bombardier  will  make  off.  Meanwhile  the 
Carabus,  exchanging  his  rapid  advance  for  a  retreat  quite  as 
rapid,  throws  back  his  antennae,  a  sign  of  his  defeat,  and 
skulks  away  to  recover  his  wonted  self-possession. 

The  volatile  fluid,  which  produces  such  curious  effects,  is 
secreted  in  a  small  sac  just  within  the  end  of  the  abdomen. 
Not  only  is  it  capable  of  repelling  the  larger  beetles  by  its 
explosion  and  cloud  of  blue  vapor,  but  it  is  also  powerful 
enough  to  discolor  the  human  skin,  as  many  who  have  cap- 
tured Bombardier  Beetles  by  the  hand  know  only  too  well. 
Should  the  fluid  get  within  the  eyelids,  the  pain  and  irritation 
produced  are  very  distressing.  Some  years  ago  the  writer, 
while  searching  for  carabi  underneath  stones  and  in  creviced 
rocks,  met  for  the  first  time  with  Brachinus,  but  was  ignorant 
as  a  child  of  his  obnoxious  property.  Placing  a  little  fellow 
upon  his  hand  for  close  examination,  he  soon  experienced  a 
burning  and  painful  sensation  of  the  ball  of  the  eye,  but  did 
not  for  a  long  while  attribute  the  cause  to  a  discharge  from 
the  Beetle.  Repeated  investigations  at  very  short  ranges  by 
means  of  a  microscope  were  attended  with  similar  results, 
till  eventually  an  inflammation  of  the  visual  organs  set  in, 
accompanied  by  a  blurring  of  the  sight,  which  debarred  him 
from  reading  and  study  for  nearly  a  fortnight.  One  learns 
wisdom  by  experience,  and  the  wisdom  thus  acquired  serves 
for  a  lifetime. 

Even  Brachinus  has  learned  by  experience,  doubtless,  to 
be  economical  in  the  use  of  his  resources.  The  whole  of 
the  contents  of  his  tiny  magazine  are  not  ejected  at  one 


114  Life  and  Immortality. 

discharge,  but  there  is  sufficient  to  produce  a  series  of 
explosions,  each  explosion  being  perceptibly  fainter  than  its 
predecessor.  By  pressing  the  abdomen  of  the  dead  Beetle 
between  finger  and  thumb  these  explosions  may  even  be 
produced.  In  hot  countries,  where  exceedingly  large  species 
abound,  the  explosions  are  said  to  be  very  loud,  and  accom- 
panied with  quite  a  cloud  of  blue  vapor. 


flHD  SHlfllHG  ONES. 


PROBABLY  more  than  ninety  thousand  different  species 
of  beetles  exist  in  the  world,  first  and  foremost  among 
them  standing  the  Cicindelidae,  or  Tiger  Beetles.  From 
their  high  position  in  the  coleopterous  world  they  may  well 
demand  our  attention,  but  they  have  other  claims  upon  our 
consideration.  They  are  beautiful,  courageous  little  creat- 
ures, and  accomplish  a  vast  amount  of  good  to  man.  The 
name  Cicindela,  by  which  they  are  known  to  scientific  people, 
tells  us  that  they  are  the  "bright  and  shining  ones;"  while 
the  cognomen  of  Tiger  Beetle  reveals  to  all  English-speak- 
ing nations  the  story  of  the  incessant  warfare  which  they 
wage  upon  their  fellows. 

The  Cicindelae  love  the  merry  sunshine.  On  any  bright 
summer  day  they  may  be  found  running  and  flying  about 
sunny  banks,  or  revelling  in  sandy  places  where  the  day-god 
smilingly  rejoices.  They  mostly  avoid  vegetation,  as  it 
checks  their  easy  rapid  movements,  although  some  kinds 
affect  grassy  spots  among  the  trees.  They  are  the  most 
predaceous  of  the  coleoptera,  and  behave  like  the  tigers 
among  mammals,  the  hawks  among  birds,  the  crocodiles 
among  reptiles  and  the  sharks  among  fishes.  In  the  tropics 
some  few  genera  seek  their  food  on  the  leaves  of  trees,  but 
in  temperate  and  sub-tropical  regions,  where  the  species  are 
more  abundant,  they  are  terrestrial  in  habits. 

Let  us  now  take  our  instruments  of  capture  and  go  in 
quest  of  some  of  the  dozen  or  more  species  that  have  their 
home  with  us.  The  day  is  auspicious.  Here  is  a  likely 
spot.  See  there  upon  the  ground  are  some  specimens  of  our 


1 1 6  Life  and  Immortality. 

commonest  species — the  Cicindela  vulgaris  of  naturalists. 
Go  for  that  one.  He  sees  you  as  quickly  as  you  see  him, 
and  is  off  for  a  few  yards,  but  suddenly  drops  to  the  grass 
from  his  flight,  but  always  with  his  head  towards  the  enemy. 
Again  and  again  you  start  him,  but  at  last,  tiring  of  the  chase, 
he  takes  a  longer  flight  that  usual.  This  is  a  ruse  of  his, 
and  knowing  what  it  means,  you  hurry  back  to  where  you 
first  saw  him  in  time  to  see  him  all  unsuspectingly  alight, 
and  you  easily  take  him  captive  in  your  toils.  Now  that  you 
have  him  secure,  examine  him  closely.  Watch  how  savagely 
he  moves  his  mandibles  and  tries  to  pinch.  You  need  not 
be  afraid,  for  his  bite  is  inoffensive  and  not  very  painful.  You 
measure  with  the  eye  his  size,  and  you  rightly  decide  that  he 
is  not  much  over  an  inch  in  length,  and  scarcely  one-fourth 
in  breadth.  His  head  you  will  find  very  large  and  brainy, 
his  jaws  powerful  and  long  and  curved,  two  scimitar-like 
weapons,  which  are  admirably  fitted  for  cutting  and  carving 
the  quivering  bodies  of  his  prey.  His  eleven-jointed  antennae 
are  long,  slender  and  graceful.  In  color  his  back  is  dull 
purple,  but  beneath  he  is  resplendent  in  a  bright  brassy  green. 
Three  whitish,  irregular  bands  adorn  his  wing-covers.  His 
legs,  long  and  slender,  are  just  the  things  on  which  to  hunt 
the  active  insects  upon  which  he  feeds. 

His  next  of  kin,  the  Purple  Tiger  Beetle,  is  nearly  as  large 
as  he,  and  often  joins  him  in  company.  Beautifully  robed  in 
purple  he  usually  is,  but  sometimes  in  a  greenish  garb 
arrayed.  From  the  outer  almost  to  the  inner  margin  of 
each  wing  meanders  a  reddish  line,  while  lower  down  a  dot, 
and  still  another  at  the  farthest  tip  of  the  inner  border, 
enhance  his  beauty.  Cold  spring  days  delight  him  best,  and 
he  is  often  seen  when  snow  is  yet  upon  the  ground. 

More  beautiful  by  far  than  either,  and  no  less  active,  is 
Cicindela  sex  guttata,  or  the  Six-spotted  Tiger  Beetle,  whose 
dress,  a  brilliant  metallic  green,  flecked  with  six  small  silver 
spots,  renders  him  a  pretty  sight  when  you  flash  the  rays  of 
light  athwart  his  burnished  armor.  Hot,  June-like  days  and 


Bright  and  Shining  Ones. 


117 


COMMON  TIGER  BEETLE. 
Larvae  in  Burrows.      Two  Other  Species  in  Background. 


dusty  road-sides  suit  him  best,  and  there,  what  time  the  sun 
looks  down  in  all  his  burning  ardor,  our  little  friend  is  met, 
his  purpose  bent  on  slaughter.  Other  species  might  be 
instanced,  for  North  America  contains  at  least  a  hundred, 
but  enough  have  been  given  for  our  present  object. 

Tiger  Beetles  may  well  be  called  beneficial  insects. 
Although  they  do  not,  like  that  brilliant  murderess,  the 
dragon-fly,  clear  the  atmosphere  of  the  gnats  and  flies  that 
torment  mankind,  but  still,  with  their  powerful  curved  dag- 
gers, which  serve  them  for  jaws,  they  accomplish  a  swift  and 
almost  incredible  havoc  among  the  smaller  insects.  We  should 
take  care  of  them,  and  respect  them,  for  they  are  an  invalu- 
able auxiliary  to  the  farmer. 

The  ferocity  of  these  insects  is  remarkable.  No  sooner 
have  they  taken  their  prey,  than  they  quickly  strip  it  of 
wings  and  legs,  and  proceed  at  once  to  suck  out  the  con- 
tents of  its  abdomen.  Often  when  they  are  disturbed  in 


1 1 8  Life  and  Immortality. 

this  agreeable  occupation,  not  wishing  to  leave  their  victim, 
they  fly  away  with  it  to  a  place  of  uninterrupted  security, 
but  they  are  unable  to  carry  a  heavy  burden  to  any  great 
distance. 

They  are  true  children  of  the  earth.  The  eggs  are  laid 
in  the  earth,  and  in  the  earth  the  grubs  are  hatched,  and  in 
the  earth  they  spend  their  days,  and  in  the  earth  they 
prepare  their  shrouds,  and,  wrapped  therein,  sleep  their 
pupa-sleep  through  the  long,  dreary  winter,  and  with  the 
returning  warmth  of  spring  crawl  out  of  their  earthy  chambers 
to  run  and  sport  on  earth,  seldom  using  their  new-formed 
wings  to  fly  away  from  their  beloved  mother. 

The  grubs  are  hideous  hunchbacks,  but  possessed  of 
brains  and  stomach.  They  live  in  the  same  localities  as 
their  parents,  the  anxious  mother,  with  wise  precision, 
having  carefully  deposited  her  eggs  where  food  would  be 
readily  attainable  by  her  children.  Have  you  a  desire  to 
examine  a  larva  ?  There  is  a  hole  that  has  been  made  by 
one  of  these  creatures.  Place  down  into  it  a  small  straw  or 
a  bit  of  fine  twig.  The  cranky  little  hermit,  who  is  always 
wide-awake,  resists  most  fiercely  such  unprovoked  insolence, 
and  instantly  seeks,  by  the  aid  of  his  broad,  expansive  head, 
to  eject  the  intruding  object.  Now  is  your  time.  When  he 
shows  himself,  quickly  seize  him  with  your  fingers.  You 
will  find  him  a  perfect  Daniel  Quilp,  with  head  enormous, 
flat,  metallic  in  color  and  armed  with  long,  curved  jaws. 
His  legs  are  six  in  number,  and  on  the  back,  half-way 
between  the  legs  and  tail,  are  two  curious,  odd-looking 
tubercles,  each  terminating  in  a  pair  of  recurved  hooks.  The 
head  and  first  body-division  are  horny,  the  rest  of  the  creature 
being  soft  and  very  sensitive. 

While  the  larval  Cicindela  has  all  the  desire  for  slaughter 
which  his  parents  manifest,  yet  his  delicate  skin,  long  body 
and  stubby  legs  not  only  prevent  him  from  chasing  prey, 
but  also  from  attempting  a  struggle  with  an  insect  of  any 
size ;  nevertheless  this  imperfectly  armed  creature  manages 


Bright  and  Shining  Ones.  1 19 

to  secure  his  food  without  exposing  himself  to  any  serious 
risk.  With  his  short,  thick  spiny  legs  he  loosens  the  earth, 
and  with  his  flat  head,  which  he  uses  as  a  shovel,  and  turning 
himself  into  a  z-shaped  figure,  hoists  up  the  clay  and  upsets 
it  around  the  mouth  of  his  intended  dwelling.  With  head 
and  legs,  and  with  a  perseverance  that  is  truly  surprising,  he 
sinks  in  a  very  short  time  a  shaft  a  foot  in  length  and  as 
large  in  diameter  as  an  ordinary  lead-pencil. 

Especial  pains  are  taken  to  see  that  the  tunnel  is  suffi- 
ciently wide,  so  that  the  little  creature  can  crawl  in  with  ease. 
If  he  wishes  to  remain  set  fast,  he  sticks  the  back  of  his 
body  against  the  sides  and  rests  safely  with  the  aid  of  his 
hooks.  In  this  position  he  can  poke  his  head  out  of  the 
ground,  thus  closing  the  entrance  of  his  burrow,  while  in 
patient  waiting  for  some  unsuspicious  wayfarer  to  pass  over. 
As  soon,  however,  as  the  luckless  insect  touches  the  top  of 
his  head,  he  relinquishes  his  hold  within  the  tunnel  and 
descends  with  great  precipitation  to  the  bottom,  and  thus  his 
victim  falls  into  the  hole,  where  it  is  seized  by  the  powerful 
jaws  and  its  juices  absorbed  in  a  quiet,  leisurely  manner. 
The  loose  earth  around  the  opening  of  the  tunnel  gives  way 
on  the  approach  of  an  insect,  and  thus  the  success  of  the 
cunning  Cicindela  is  doubly  insured. 

Sometimes  in  the  construction  of  a  burrow,  after  a  certain 
depth  has  been  reached,  the  young  Cicindela  meets  with  a 
difficulty  which  he  had  not  expected.  A  flat  stone  is  encoun- 
tered, and  thus  further  progress  in  a  vertical  direction  is 
prevented.  If  the  obstacle,  on  account  of  its  size,  cannot  be 
gone  round,  and  the  shaft  is  not  deep  enough  for  his  purpose, 
it  is  not  unusual  for  him  to  desert  it  and  attempt  the  tunnel- 
ling of  a  home  in  some  more  desirable  spot.  He  does  not 
undertake  a  very  long  journey,  for  he  knows  too  well  the 
risk  which  he  runs  by  so  doing,  as  he  is  in  danger  of  being 
assaulted  by  secret  foes  in  the  rear,  an  attack  which  the 
peculiar  conformation  of  his  hinder  body  ill  fits  him  to  resist. 
On  land  he  is  timid  and  cowardly,  and  well  might  he  be,  but 


1 20  Life  and  Immortality. 

within  the  protecting  walls  of  his  underground  castle,  with 
a  pair  of  powerful  swords  with  which  to  defend  himself,  he 
is  the  impersonation  of  fearlessness  and  courage. 

When  fully  grown  the  larva  closes  up  the  mouth  of  its 
abode,  and  in  quiet  and  solitude  undergoes  its  metamorphosis, 
lying  dormant  during  the  winter  months.  But  when  the 
breath  of  warm  spring  days  has  melted  the  icy  coldness  of 
the  earth,  and  filled  the  air  with  vivifying  influences,  then 
comes  it  forth  in  all  the  pomp  and  splendor  of  its  nature — 
a  winged  existence. 

It  has  been  seen  what  a  beautiful  adaptation  of  means  to 
an  end  is  shown  by  the  young  Cicindela.  Even  the  adult,  or 
mature  form,  with  its  long,  slender  legs,  so  admirably  formed 
for  silence  and  fleetness  of  movement,  which  are  alike  neces- 
sary to  pursuit  of  prey  and  escape  from  enemies,  displays  the 
wisdom  of  Him  who  breathed  into  all  animated  nature,  no 
matter  how  small  or  how  humble,  the  essence  of  His  being, 
and  endowed  one  and  all  with  qualities  of  mind  and  body 
which  should  respond  to  environing  conditions  and  thus  pre- 
pare them  to  survive  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 


QOEEfi  Of 


NO  insect  affords  a  better  proof  of  high  art  in  nature, 
and  of  the  transcendent  beauty  of  the  Creator's 
thoughts,  than  the  Luna  moth,  which  is  as  preeminent  above 
her  fellows  as  her  namesake,  the  fair  empress  of  the  sky, 
above  the  lesser  lights  that  dominate  the  night.  Her  elegant 
robes  of  green,  set  off  with  trimmings  of  purple,  and  jewelled 
with  diamonds,  added  to  her  queenly  grace  and  personal 
charms,  will  always  distinguish  her  from  the  profanum  vulgus 
of  the  articulata. 

And  now  for  a  short  biographical  sketch  of  this  remarka- 
ble beauty  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  and  beyond,  after 
she  has  assumed  her  resurrection-attire,  to  the  day  when, 
her  appointed  work  on  earth  being  ended,  she  quietly  lays 
her  body  down  to  mingle  with  its  native  clay. 

In  her  childhood,  or  caterpillar  state,  her  head  is  elliptical 
in  shape,  of  a  light  pearly  color,  the  rest  of  the  body  being 
a  clear  bluish-green.  A  faint  yellow  band  stretches  along 
each  side,  just  below  the  line  of  her  breathing-organs,  from 
the  first  to  the  tenth  segment,  while  the  back,  between  the 
several  body-rings,  is  crossed  by  narrow  transverse  bars, 
similar  in  coloration.  Each  segment,  after  the  fashion  of  her 
kith  and  kin,  is  adorned  with  small  pearly  warts,  tinged  with 
purple,  some  five  or  six  in  number,  each  tipped  with  a  few 
simple  hairs.  Three  brown  spots,  bordered  above  with 
yellow,  ornament  the  end  of  the  tail.  An  interesting  variety, 
whose  general  color  is  a  dull  reddish-brown,  is  sometimes 
met  with,  but  the  lateral  and  transverse  stripes  of  yellow 
have  disappeared,  and  the  pearl-colored  warts  with  edges  of 


122  Life  and  Immortality. 

purple  have  assumed  a  richer  hue  and  blaze  like  a.  coronet 
of  rubies.  When  at  rest,  with  the  rings  all  bunched  and 
body  shortened,  the  infantile  Luna  is  as  thick  as  a  man's 
thumb,  measuring  but  two  inches  in  linear  direction ;  but 
when  she  sets  out  upon  her  travels,  feeling  the  dignity  of  her 
station  in  life,  she  stretches  to  her  full  length  of  three 
inches. 

When  have  been  completed  her  allotted  days  of  feeding 
upon  the  leaves  of  the  hickory,  oak,  walnut  or  sweet  gum, 
and  she  is  seriously  contemplating  the  preparing  of  a  shroud 
and  casket  in  which  to  await  her  resurrection-morn,  she  casts 
about  for  leaves,  which,  when  they  are  found,  she  securely 
draws  together,  and  within  the  hollow  space  there  is  soon 
spun  a  very  close  and  strong  oval  cocoon  of  silk,  one  and 
three-fourths  inches  in  length,  of  chestnut-brown  color,  thin, 
and  covered  with  warts  and  excrescences,  but  seldom  showing 
the  imprints  of  leaves.  Cocoons  of  Luna  so  nearly  resemble 
those  of  polyphemus,  that  many  an  experienced  collector 
is  greatly  chagrined,  after  getting  together  a  large  supply 
of  what  he  deems  Luna  cocoons,  to  find  dusky,  one-eyed 
polyphemi  to  issue  from  the  silken  tombs  rather  than  a 
goodly  throng,  in  delicate  bridal  attire,  of  proud  empresses 
of  the  night.  Polyphemus  cocoons  are,  however,  somewhat 
smaller  than  Lunas,  white  or  dirty-white  in  color,  rounded 
at  each  end,  and  sometimes  angular,  because  of  the  leaves 
being  unevenly  moulded  into  their  surfaces,  and  generally 
covered  with  a  whitish  meal-like  powder. 

In  June  the  Lunas  awake  from  their  death-like  slumber, 
burst  asunder  their  silken  cerements,  having  at  first  made 
loose  the  compact  threads  by  a  fluid-ejection,  and  come  out 
into  the  world  in  all  the  freshness  and  glory  of  a  new  and 
untried  existence.  Their  wings,  which  expand  from  four  and 
three-fourths  to  five  and  one-half  inches,  are  of  a  delicate 
light-green  color,  the  hinder  ones  being  prolonged  into  a  tail 
of  an  inch  and  a  half  or  more  in  length.  Along  the  anterior 
margin  of  the  fore-wings  is  a  broad  purple-brown  stripe, 


Queen  of  American  Silk-Spinners. 


123 


extending  also  across  the  back,  and  sending  downwards  a 
little  branch  to  a  glittering  eye-like  spot  near  the  middle  of 
the  wing.  These  eyes,  of  which  there  is  one  on  each  wing, 
are  transparent  in  the  centre,  and  encircled  by  white,  yellow, 
blue  and  black  rings.  The  hinder  borders  are  more  or  less 


AMERICAN  LUNA  MOTH. 
Larva  on  Branch  Below,  and  Cocoon  on  Twig  Just  Above. 


edged  with  purple-brown.  All  the  nervures  are  very  distinct, 
and  pale-brown  in  color.  Near  the  body  the  wings  are 
thickly  invested  with  long  white  hairs.  The  under  sides, 
excepting  that  an  indistinct  line  runs  along  the  margin  of 
both  wings,  are  like  to  the  upper.  As  for  the  body,  the 


1 24  Life  and  Immortality. 

thorax  is  white,  occasionally  yellowish  or  greenish,  and 
coursed  by  the  purple-brown  stripe  that  traverses  the  entire 
length  of  the  upper  edge  of  the  wings ;  and  the  abdomen, 
similarly  colored,  and  clothed  with  white,  wool-like  hairs. 
The  head  is  small  and  white,  and  furnished  with  broad,  flat 
and  strongly  pectinated  antennae,  which  are  very  much  wider 
in  the  male.  The  legs  are  purple-brown,  and  poorly  adapted 
for  walking,  but  this  defect  is  largely  compensated  for  in  the 
wide  stretch  of  wings,  that  fit  their  possessor  for  powerful 
and  long-sustained  flight. 

Such  is  Luna  in  her  various  transformations.  Notwith- 
standing her  great  size  and  almost  matchless  loveliness,  her 
habits  are  not  proportionally  noteworthy.  The  gift  of 
superior  beauty,  in  the  insect  as  in  the  mammalian  world, 
does  not  often  carry  with  it  a  high  order  of  intelligence.  It 
is  true  the  young  Luna  knows  pretty  well  the  secret  of  dis- 
sembling. How  quickly  she  perceives  the  approach  of  an 
enemy !  And  she  knows  how  to  deal  with  him,  but  her  little 
trick  of  simulating  death,  or  an  immobile  twig,  does  not 
always  succeed  with  the  wily  spider,  or  artful  ichneumon. 
That  she  is  a  tolerably  good  connoisseur  of  the  character  of 
foods,  there  can  be  no  question.  You  cannot  deceive  her. 
Take  from  her  the  foods  her  ancestors  have  used  for  cen- 
turies untold,  and  substitute  others  she  knows  nothing  about, 
and  she  is  at  once  cognizant  of  the  change.  However 
hungry  she  may  be,  and  in  her  early  growing  years  she  is 
ever  a  voracious  feeder,  she  will  starve  rather  than  eat  what 
the  unwritten  law  of  her  race  has  strictly  interdicted.  I  have 
known  cases  where  death  has  ensued,  or  the  caterpillar  has 
pupated  earlier  than  usual,  when  alien  food  has  been  given 
it  to  eat.  But  in  the  beginning  of  life,  just  after  the  first 
skin-moulting  has  been  effected,  ere  the  little  creature  has 
attained  its  seventh  day  of  age,  no  trouble  is  experienced  in 
changing  the  food,  almost  anything  edible  in  the  plant-line 
being  eaten,  though  some  things  with  a  more  decided  relish 
than  others.  In  the  matter  of  cocoon-weaving,  where  the 


Queen  of  American  Silk-Spinners.  125 

necessary  leaves  for  a  basis  cannot  be  obtained,  as  occurs  in 
captivity,  the  inconvenience  is  overcome,  but  not  without 
difficulty.  Leaves,  you  must  know,  are  in  Luna's  way  of 
thinking,  as  essential  to  cocoon-building  as  wooden  or  iron 
beams  and  girders  to  man's  own  constructing.  Without  a 
framework  of  some  sort,  what  a  sorry  attempt  would  we 
make  at  home-building,  but  Luna  does  succeed,  after  a  good 
deal  of  wise  planning  and  no  little  worry,  in  producing  a 
house  which  is  well  worthy  her  effort. 

While  the  gaudy  mqth  or  butterfly,  when  contrasted  in 
wisdom  and  sense  with  the  dingy-colored  bee,  may  suffer  in 
comparison,  yet  she  is  by  no  means  the  dull,  stupid  creature 
she  is  pictured  to  be.  She  lives,  it  is  a  fact,  as  has  often  been 
said,  for  the  increase  of  her  race,  but  the  interest  she  shows 
for  the  young  she  may  never  see,  in  laying  her  eggs  upon  the 
plant  that  is  to  serve  them  as  food  and  home,  puts  her  upon 
a  rather  high  plane  of  intelligent  existence.  Luna's  life,  in 
the  perfect  state,  is  usually  quite  brief.  It  is  one  of  the 
happiest  of  honeymoons.  Love  conquers  and  destroys  all 
other  passions  of  her  being,  while  her  gormandizing  off- 
spring are  never  troubled  by  the  ardent  flame  which  consumes 
even  the  thought  of  sipping  the  nectar  of  the  flowers  that 
rival  in  beauty  the  wings  of  the  mother,  who  is  the  per- 
fect representation  and  embodiment  of  elegance  and  grace. 
While  the  early  insect  lives  and  eats,  the  adult  form,  upon 
whom  Dame  Nature  has  expended  so  much  wealth  of  color 
and  "such  symmetry  of  shape,  which  make  her  a  "thing  of 
beauty  and  a  joy  forever,"  lives  and  dies,  for  in  her  seeming 
haste  and  forgetfulness  the  great  mother  of  us  all  has  made 
her  without  the  essential  means  of  tasting  food,  a  delight 
and  an  enjoyment  which  the  lords  of  creation  are  so  wont 
to  esteem  the  purpose  and  aim  of  all  human  existence. 


YOU  who  have  been  to  the  country,  in  the  summer,  and 
who  have  kept  your  eyes  alive  to  the  surroundings, 
have  doubtless  seen  the  Basket-worm  feeding  upon  the 
leaves  of  the  quince,  apple,  peach,  linden,  and  other  decidu- 
ous trees,  as  well  as  upon  such  evergreen  as  the  arbor-vitae, 
Norway  spruce,  and  red  cedar.  In  Germany  these  worms 
are  popularly  designated  Sack-trdger,  or  Sack-bearer,  while 
the  mature  insect  is  spoken  of  as  the  House-builder  Moth. 
Scientifically  speaking,  the  latter  is  called  Thyridopteryx 
ephemerczformis,  a  name  which  is  nearly  twice  the  length  of 
the  caterpillar  it  represents. 

During  the  winter  the  curious  weather-beaten  bags  of 
these  worms  may  be  observed  hanging  from  the  tree- 
branches,  apparently  without  a  trace  of  the  odd-looking  creat- 
ures that  hung  them  there  the  autumn  before.  If  a  number 
of  these  bags  are  gathered  and  cut  open  at  this  time,  many 
of  them  will  be  discovered  to  be  empty,  but  the  greater  por- 
tion will  be  found  partly  full  of  yellow  eggs.  Those  which 
do  not  contain  eggs  are  male  bags,  and  the  empty  chrysalis 
of  the  male  will  be  found  protruding  from  the  lower  ex- 
tremity. Upon  close  examination  these  eggs  will  be  ob- 
served to  be  obovate  in  form,  soft  and  opaque,  about  one- 
twentieth  of  an  inch  in  length,  and  surrounded  by  more  or 
less  fawn-colored  silky  down.  If  left  to  themselves,  they 
hatch  sometime  in  May,  or  early  in  June. 

The  young  which  come  from  these  eggs  are  of  a  brown 
color,  very  active  in  their  movements,  and  begin  at  once  to 
make  for  themselves  coverings  of  silk,  to  which  they  fasten 


Basket-  Carriers.  127 

bits  of  the  leaves  of  the  tree  on  which  they  are  feeding, 
forming  small  cones  that  are  closely  adherent  to  the  leaf- 
surfaces.  As  the  larvae  grow,  they  augment  the  size  of 
their  enclosures  or  bags  from  the  bottom,  until  they  become 
so  large  and  heavy  that  they  hang  instead  of  remaining 
upright,  as  they  did  at  first. 

By  the  end  of  July  the  caterpillars  become  fully  grown. 
They  are  now  exceedingly  restless,  and  may  be  seen  wander- 
ing from  branch  to  branch  by  means  of  their  true  legs  which 
are  projected  from  the  mouths  of  their  baskets,  to  which 
they  keep  firm  hold,  or  suspended  from  a  branch  of  a  tree 
by  a  long  silken  thread  of  their  own  manufacture.  When 
very  abundant,  as  they  were  in  certain  localities  during  the 
season  just  ended,  they  become  a  great  nuisance,  as  one  can 
hardly  walk  beneath  the  trees  without  being  inconvenienced 
by  a  dozen  or  more  dangling  into  his  face. 

Removed  from  the  case  at  this  stage  of  existence  and 
closely  examined,  that  portion  of  the  body  which  has  been 
covered  by  the  bag  will  be  seen  to  be  soft,  and  of  a  dull 
brownish  color,  inclining  to  red  at  the  sides,  while  the  three 
anterior  segments,  which  are  exposed  when  the  insect  is 
feeding  or  travelling,  will  be  found  to  be  horny  and  mottled 
with  black  and  white.  The  pro-legs  on  the  middle  and  hinder 
segments,  which  are  soft  and  fleshy,  will  show  themselves 
fringed  with  numerous  hooks,  by  which  the  larva  is  enabled 
to  cling  to  the  silken  lining  of  its  bag  and  drag  it  along 
wherever  it  goes.  The  external  surface  of  the  bag  is  rough 
and  irregular,  often  presenting  a  beautiful  ruffle-like  appear- 
ance, which  is  due  to  the  projecting  portions  of  the  stems 
and  leaves  which  are  woven  into  it.  During  their  growing- 
period  these  caterpillars  are  slow  travellers,  seldom  leaving 
the  tree  on  which  they  were  hatched.  When  about  to  change 
into  chrysalids,  they  fasten  their  bags  securely  to  the  twigs 
on  which  they  happen  to  be,  and  then  undergo  their  change, 
the  male  chrysalis  being  very  much  smaller  than  the  female, 
hardly  one-third  its  size. 


128  Life  and  Immortality. 

When  we  examine  the  cases  of  the  Basket-worm,  hardly 
any  two  will  be  seen  to  be  alike  in  their  ornamentation.  So 
completely  is  the  outside  covered,  when  made  upon  the 
arbor-vitae,  which  seems  to  be  a  favorite  food-plant  of  the 
species,  that  the  silken  envelope  is  concealed  from  view. 
The  bits  of  twigs  and  leaves  are  probably  protective,  and  yet 
one  would  think  that  the  extremely  tough  case  which  covers 
the  caterpillar  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  protect  it  against  all 
assaults  of  foes  and  stress  of  weather.  Nevertheless,  this 
leafy  coat  of  mail,  which  sometimes  wholly  covers  the  sac, 
must  certainly  add  very  much  to  the  protective  value  of  the 
covering.  The  caterpillar  has  a  soft,  hairless  body,  and  is 
thus  more  exposed  than  many  of  its  neighbors,  and  nature, 
it  would  seem,  has  favored  it  far  above  all  of  its  fellows. 

How  the  worm  manages  to  trim  its  coat  in  this  manner 
must  seem,  to  the  uninitiated  in  such  matters,  wholly  inex- 
plicable. To  enable  the  reader  to  understand  the  manner  of 
operation,  it  will  be  necessary  first  to  explain  its  mode  of 
feeding.  The  larva  has  perfect  control  of  its  own  move- 
ments, notwithstanding  the  fact  that  it  carries  its  house  upon 
its  back.  It  can  thus  thrust  its  body  out  of  the  sac-mouth 
until  nearly  the  whole  of  it  is  exposed,  and  twist  and  bend 
itself  in  every  direction.  Specimens  have  been  met  with 
that  had  dropped  from  the  trees  hanging  by  a  thread  and 
squirming,  bending  and  snapping  their  bodies  in  the  most 
grotesque  ways,  while  the  case  spun  around  like  an  old- 
fashioned  distaff.  Now,  when  the  caterpillar  wants  to  feed 
it  stretches  its  head  and  neck  out  of  the  case  and  moves 
them  about  until  a  satisfactory  place  has  been  secured,  which 
it  clasps  with  its  true  legs,  three  pairs  of  hard,  conical  organs 
armed  with  sharp  claws,  and  pulls  up  its  body  and  com- 
mences to  spin.  The  spinning-organs  are  near  the  mouth, 
and  after  several  movements  of  the  head,  as  though  smearing 
the  liquid  viscid  silk  upon  the  leaf,  the  head  is  drawn  back, 
drawing  out  with  it  a  short  thread.  A  similar  movement  is 
then  made  against  one  side  of  the  mouth  of  the  sac,  the 


Basket-  Carriers. 


129 


HOUSE-BUILDER  MOTH. 

Young  in  House,  Winged  Male,  Young  Suspended  and  Bag-like  Female  in  Longitudinally- 
Split  Cocoon. 

process  being  repeated  several  times  until  a  stout  stay-line 
is  spun  by  which  the  larva  hangs  securely.  Now  the 
creature  is  ready  to  feed.  The  behavior,  however,  varies  a 
great  deal.  In  feeding  upon  the  white  pine  it  secures  itself 
to  one  leaf  by  its  stay-line,  while  it  reaches  to  an  adjoining 
leaf  which  it  bites  off,  and  sitting  erect,  as  it  were,  in  its 
house,  comfortably  chews  off  the  end  which  is  continually 
shored  upward  by  the  first  and  second  pairs  of  true  legs 
that  stand  out  free  and  untrammelled  above  the  sac. 

But  more  frequently  the  worm  feeds  without  separating 
the  leaf  from  the  point  of  suspension.  By  making  itself 
fast  to  the  under  part  of  the  leaf  it  is  thus  enabled  to  reach 
the  edge,  which  it  gnaws  round  and  round  until  it  has  com- 
pleted its  destruction. 


1 30  Life  and  Immortality. 

So  securely  does  the  caterpillar  hold  on  to  its  house,  that 
one  would  suppose  that  its  body  was  lashed  to  the  inside.  But 
no,  its  body  is  unhampered,  for  it  can  turn  itself  easily  around 
in  its  case,  and  go  out  at  either  end,  although  the  head  is 
generally  directed  upward.  It  clings  to  the  inside  with  the 
hooks  upon  its  hinder  feet,  and  so  tenaciously,  too,  that  the 
writer  has  never  been  able  to  pull  one  out,  being  checked  by 
the  fear  of  tearing  the  creature  in  two.  And  now  to  the 
mode  of  attaching  the  leaf-cuttings  to  the  case.  This  is 
always  done  at  or  near  the  mouth  of  the  sac.  The  Ephemera- 
form  larva  is  a  growing  creature,  unlike  the  moth  itself,  which 
emerges  a  perfect  insect  of  full  growth.  It  commences  life  as 
a  small  worm,  eats  small  quantities,  and,  as  may  be  observed, 
down  towards  the  foot  of  the  case  sews  on  very  small  tags. 
But  after  it  has  fastened  on  these  pieces  to  the  mouth,  it 
grows  itself,  and  so  also  does  the  case,  which  it  continually 
stretches  and  enlarges.  Hence  the  mouth  of  the  case  is 
continually  changing,  moving  upward  as  the  worm  feeds,  so 
that  the  pieces  sewed  upon  the  cap  of  the  case  thus  appear, 
in  an  adult  caterpillar,  precisely  as  they  are  seen  scattered 
along  the  outside  from  top  to  bottom.  And  now,  as  to  how 
the  pieces  are  put  into  the  case,  I  shall  endeavor  to  explain. 
That  the  worm  cuts  purposely  through  the  twig  which  it 
needs  for  the  case,  I  feel  certain.  Of  course  the  outer  or 
detached  part  drops  down.  But,  while  eating,  the  worm 
frequently,  quite  constantly,  indeed,  spreads  its  viscid  silk 
along  the  leaf  and  so  keeps  it  attached  on  both  sides  to  the 
upper  rim  of  the  sac,  or  to  its  own  mouth-parts,  and  thus  the 
tip  of  the  twig  or  leaf,  instead  of  falling  to  the  ground  when 
it  is  severed  from  the  stem,  simply  drops  alongside  of  the 
case,  to  which  it  is  held  by  the  slight  filament  that  attaches 
it  to  the  sac,  or,  as  happens  in  many  instances,  remains 
attached  to  the  caterpillar's  spinneret.  In  either  case  the 
leaf,  twig  or  stem  remains,  and,  after  being  drawn  up,  adjusted 
and  tightened  by  the  worm,  adheres  tightly.  As  the  creat- 
ure is  forever  moving  its  spinning-tubes  around  the  top  of 


Basket-  Carriers.  131 

the  sac,  these  fastenings  are  being  continually  strengthened, 
and  thus  one  piece  after  another  is  added,  and  so  the  basket 
grows. 

While  the  case  of  the  Basket-worm,  and  even  that  part  of 
its  body  which  it  chooses  to  expose  to  view,  are  known  to 
the  casual  observer,  yet  but  few  persons  have  ever  seen  the 
mature  insect.  The  female  moth  is  wingless,  and  never 
leaves  the  bag,  but  makes  her  way  to  its  lower  orifice,  and 
there  awaits  the  attendance  of  the  male.  She  is  not  only 
without  wings,  but  is  devoid  of  legs  also,  being,  in  short, 
nothing  more  than  a  yellowish  bag  of  eggs  with  a  ring  of 
soft,  pale-brown,  silky  hair  near  the  tail.  The  male,  on  the 
other  hand,  has  transparent  wings  and  a  black  body,  and  is 
very  active  on  the  wing  during  the  warmer  portions  of  the 
day.  After  pairing  the  female  deposits  her  eggs,  inter- 
mingled with  fawn-colored  down,  within  the  empty  pupa- 
case,  and  when  this  task  is  completed  works  her  way  out  of 
the  case,  drops  exhausted  to  the  ground  and  dies. 

Though  a  Southern  rather  than  a  Northern  insect,  yet  it 
is  found  as  far  north  as  New  Jersey  and  New  York,  and 
occasionally  in  Massachusetts.  It  is  extremely  local  in 
character,  abounding  in  one  particular  neighborhood  and 
totally  unknown  a  few  miles  away.  Where  they  occur  in 
abundance  they  often  almost  entirely  defoliate  the  trees  they 
attack,  but  this  can  be  easily  prevented  by  gathering  the 
cases  containing  the  eggs  for  the  next  brood  during  the 
winter  and  destroying  them.  Hand-picking  the  cases  with 
the  worms  in  them,  where  their  ravages  are  confined  to 
small  trees  and  shrubbery,  will  also  help  to  hold  them  in 
check.  Nature  has  provided  two  species  of  ichneumon  for 
their  destruction.  One  of  them,  Cryptus  inquisitor,  is  about 
two-fifths  of  an  inch  in  length,  and  the  other,  Hemiteles 
thyridopteryx,  is  nearly  one-third  of  an  inch.  Five  or  six 
of  this  latter  species  will  sometimes  occupy  the  body  of  a 
single  caterpillar,  and  after  destroying  their  victim  spin  for 
themselves  tough,  white,  silken  cocoons  within  the  bag. 


LATE  in  June,  growing  abundantly  in  the  edges  of 
woods  throughout  this  region,  may  be  seen  the 
Cimicifuga  racemosa  of  botanists,  popularly  called  Rattle- 
weed,  or  Black  Snakeroot.  It  sends  up  a  stalk,  sometimes 
branching,  four  or  five  feet,  terminating  in  a  spike  or  spikes, 
six  to  ten  inches  long,  of  round,  greenish-white  buds,  which 
stand  upon  short  stems,  and  are  arranged  in  rows  about  the 
stalk,  diminishing  in  size  till  they  reach  the  pointed  top. 
The  lower  buds,  when  they  are  about  the  size  of  an  ordinary 
pea,  open  first,  and  the  flowering  proceeds  by  degrees  up  the 
spike,  so  that  buds  are  to  be  met  with  throughout  a  period 
of  from  four  to  six  weeks.  The  flowers  emit  an  intensely 
sweet  odor,  which  renders  them  attractive  to  butterflies 
and  bees. 

But  should  you  examine  these  buds  with  care,  you  will 
find  a  number  of  small  caterpillars,  the  larva  of  the  beautiful 
Azure  Butterfly,  called  Lyccenapseudargiolus,  feeding  thereon. 
During  its  younger  stages  it  is  white,  and  so  near  the  color 
of  these  buds  that  it  is  well  protected,  and  very  difficult  to 
find.  Later  on,  it  may  be  white  or  greenish,  and  often 
diversified  with  a  few  black  or  brown  patches,  irregularly 
diffused  over  the  surface. 

When  mature  the  larva  is  one-half  of  an  inch  in  length, 
and,  like  all  Lycsenid  larvae,  is  onisciform,  or  shaped  like  the 
little  pill-bug,  so  common  under  stones  and  logs.  The  head 
is  very  small,  and  is  placed  on  the  end  of  a  long,  green  neck, 
which  at  the  junction  is  of  the  thickness  of  the  head,  but 
gradually  enlarges,  and  seems  to  be  fixed  at  the  hinder  part 


Honey-Producing  Caterpillars.  133 

of  the  second  segment,  the  latter  being  hollowed  out  so 
as  to  form  for  it  a  sheath.  In  the  final  larval  stages  this 
segment  is  elevated,  transversely  compressed,  and  inclines 
forward,  thereby  shielding  the  head  as  the  larva  moves 
about.  When  quiescent  the  neck  and  head  are  wholly 
retracted,  and  as  the  former,  when  fully  extended,  is  very 
much  longer  than  the  depth  of  the  second  segment,  it  must 
possess  considerable  elasticity. 

The  larva  feeds  on  the  heart  of  the  bud,  and  to  reach  this 
cuts  away  the  surface  on  one  side  till  an  opening  is  made 
sufficiently  large  to  admit  its  head ;  and  as  it  feeds  the  second 
segment  is  firmly  pressed  against  the  bud  so  as  to  permit  the 
utmost  elongation  of  the  neck.  Thus  it  is  enabled  to  eat 
out  the  contents  of  the  bud,  and  only  desists  when  there 
remains  but  the  empty  shell.  When  so  engaged  the  anterior 
segments  are  curved  up  and  the  others  rest  upon  the  stalk 
of  the  plant,  but  very  small  larvae  repose  wholly  in  the  bud. 
Not  a  single  instance  has  been  observed  where  an  open 
flower  has  been  attacked,  but  the  destruction  of  buds  is  very 
extensive. 

But  now  comes  the  most  remarkable  part  of  the  larval  his- 
ory  of  Pseudargiolus.  The  whole  upper  part  of  the  larva  is 
covered  with  small,  glassy,  star-shaped  processes,  scarcely 
raised  above  the  surrounding  surface,  from  the  centre  of 
which  spring  short,  filamentous  bodies,  bristling  with  feathery- 
looking  tentacles,  which  the  caterpillar  has  the  power  of  pro- 
truding at  will.  It  throws  them  out  like  the  tentacles  of 
Papilio  or  the  horns  of  snails.  More  singular  still  is  an 
opening  upon  the  eleventh  segment,  placed  transversely  and 
surrounded  by  a  raised  cushion,  about  which  the  granula- 
tions that  cover  the  body  of  the  caterpillar  are  particularly 
dense.  From  the  middle  of  this  opening,  which  is  shaped 
like  a  button-hole,  issues,  at  the  caterpillar's  will,  a  sort  of 
transparent,  hemispherical  vesicle,  from  which  is  emitted  a 
good-sized  drop  of  fluid,  which  the  animal  is  capable  of 
reproducing  when  absorbed. 


134 


Life  and  Immortality. 


PSEUDARGIOLUS  BUTTERFLY. 
Larva  Feeding  on  Bud  of  Black  Snakeroot,  and  Guarded  by  Ants. 

Four  species  of  ants  may  be  seen  attending,  not  the  small 
larvae,  but  those  that  have  attained  the  nearly  mature  condi- 
tion. They  are  invariably  found  on  or  near  the  larva.  Their 
actions,  as  they  run  over  the  body,  caressing  with  antennae, 
evidently  persuading  the  larva  to  emit  a  drop  of  the  fluid, 
are  alike  curious  and  interesting.  Most  of  this  caressing  is 
done  about  the  anterior  segments,  and  while  the  ants  are 
thus  occupied,  or  rather,  while  they  are  absent  from  the  last 
segments,  the  tubes  of  the  twelfth  seem  expanded  to  their 
full  extent,  and  so  remain,  without  retracting  or  throbbing, 
until  the  ants  come  hurrying  along  with  great  excitement 
and  set  foot  or  antenna  directly  on  or  close  by  the  tubes, 


Honey-Producing  Caterpillars.  135 

when  they  are  instantly  withdrawn.  The  ants  pay  no  heed 
to  the  tubes.  They  seek  for  nothing  from  them,  and  expect 
nothing.  But  they  turn  at  once  to  the  eleventh,  caress  the 
back  of  that  segment,  and,  putting  their  mouths  to  its  open- 
ing, exhibit  an  eager  desire  and  expectancy.  Suddenly  a 
dull  green,  fleshy,  mammilloid  organ  protrudes,  and  from  the 
summit  of  which  comes  a  tiny  drop  of  clear  green  fluid, 
which  the  ants,  some  two  or  three  perhaps  standing  about 
it,  lap  greedily  up.  As  the  drop  disappears,  this  organ  sinks 
in  at  the  apex,  and  is  so  withdrawn.  The  ants  then  run 
about,  some  in  quest  of  other  larvae  upon  the  same  stem, 
some  with  no  definite  object,  but  presently  return  and  pursue 
the  caressings  as  before.  The  intervals  between  the  appear- 
ance of  the  globule  vary  with  the  condition  of  the  larva. 
Where  exhaustion  by  long-continued  solicitings  occurs,  some 
minutes  elapse  before  renewal  is  effected,  the  tubes  in  the 
meantime  remaining  concealed.  Fresh  larvae,  however,  require 
little  or  no  urging,  and  globule  follows  globule,  as  many  as 
six  emissions  in  seventy-five  seconds,  without  even  a  retract- 
ing of  the  organ.  Often  the  presence  of  the  ant,  when  the 
larva  is  aware  of  it,  evokes,  all  unsought,  the  sugary  fluid. 

Ordinarily  the  tubes  expand  when  the  ants  are  absent  from 
the  last  segments,  and  are  certainly  withdrawn  when  they 
come  near.  These  tubes,  from  all  appearances,  serve  as 
signals  to  the  ants.  When  the  latter  discover  them  expanded, 
they  know  that  a  refection  is  ready,  and  rush  to  the  opening 
in  the  eleventh  segment  where  it  is  to  be  found.  The  tubes 
certainly  serve  no  other  purpose.  No  visible  duct  appears 
in  the  dome  of  the  tube  when  largely  magnified,  and  the  ants 
seek  nothing  from  it  or  the  twelfth  segment.  They  cannot  be 
used  to  intimidate,  or  to  frighten  away  enemies,  for  in  the 
younger  stages,  when  the  larvae  have  the  most  to  dread, 
neither  the  tube  nor  the  organ  in  the  eleventh  segment  is 
available.  The  outward  openings,  and  the  orifice  in  the 
eleventh  segment,  exist  in  the  youngest  larval  stages,  but  are 
functionless  until  the  larva  has  nearly  attained  maturity. 


1 36  Life  and  Immortality. 

Ants  seldom  attempt  to  caress  or  solicit  young  larvae,  but 
pass  them  by  with  indifference,  seemingly  knowing  that  they 
cannot  emit  the  secretion.  When  an  ant  approaches  one  of 
these  immature  larvae,  the  larva  manifests  considerable 
annoyance,  throwing  up  the  hinder  segments,  as  though  the 
ant  was  an  enemy  which  it  was  desirous  to  get  rid  of.  If  the 
tubes  could  now  be  thrust  out,  the  ant  would  be  attracted, 
rather  than  repelled. 

But  when  the  period  arrives  that  the  tubes  are  free,  and 
the  secretion  is  ready  to  be  ejected,  which  is  perhaps  just 
after  the  third  skin-moulting,  and  it  cannot  be  earlier,  the 
larva  grows  now  quiet  and  submissive,  inviting  the  atten- 
tions of  the  ants,  and  rewarding  their  antennal  caresses. 

Four  species  of  parasites  affect  these  larvae.  Two  are  dip- 
terous. These,  which  are  of  the  size  of  the  common  house- 
fly, deposit  their  eggs,  during  the  second  larval  stage,  on  the 
back,  and  near  the  junction  of  the  second  and  third  segments. 
In  process  of  time  the  grubs  hatch  and  eat  their  way  into  the 
larva,  to  emerge  when  the  latter  has  become  fully  grown, 
thus  destroying  its  life.  Another  of  these  enemies  is  a 
minute  hymenopterous  insect,  whose  egg  is  placed  in  the 
very  young  larva,  probably  in  the  first  stage  of  its  life.  The 
grub,  in  this  case,  eats  its  way  out  of  the  half-grown  larva, 
spins  a  silken  cocoon,  from  which  in  a  few  days  issues  the 
newly-matured  parasite.  The  destruction  of  larvae  by  these, 
and  very  likely  by  other  similar  parasites,  is  doubtless  im- 
mense. But  no  parasite  attacks,  it  does  seem,  the  mature 
larva,  for,  if  it  did,  the  grub  of  the  former  would  live  within 
and  destroy  the  chrysalis,  and  instead  of  a  butterfly  emerging 
therefrom  would  come  forth  the  parasite.  Multitudes  of 
chrysalids  of  other  species  of  butterflies  are  thus  destroyed, 
but  Pseudargiolus,  at  this  stage,  appears  to  enjoy  a  singular 
immunity  from  enemies. 

Why  this  species,  and  doubtless  many  others  of  its  family, 
are  thus  favored,  will  soon  be  apparent.  Ants  may  be  seen 
wherever  these  larvae  may  be  found,  ever  ready  to  receive 


Honey-Producing  Caterpillars.  137 

the  honeyed  secretion  when  it  pleases  the  little  creatures  to 
eject  it,  but  all  the  while  exercising  the  closest  vigilance 
lest  some  wary  ichneumon  may  come  along  and  deal  a  thrust 
of  its  ovipositor,  which  means  misery  and  ultimate  death  to 
their  helpless  friends.  So  intent  is  the  larva,  with  its 
head  buried  in  the  flower,  upon  its  feeding,  and  so  quietly 
and  stealthily  does  the  ichneumon  approach  its  intended 
victim,  that  hardly  a  single  individual  would  be  left  to  tell 
the  story  of  its  existence  were  it  not  for  the  ants.  The 
larvae  know  their  protectors,  it  would  seem  from  their  actions, 
and  are  able  and  willing  to  reward  their  services.  The 
advantage  is  mutual,  and  the  association  friendly.  No  com- 
pelling by  rough  means  on  the  one  part  is  noticeable,  and 
no  reluctant  yielding  on  the  other.  All  demonstrations 
made  by  the  ants  are  of  the  most  gentle  character.  They 
caress,  entreat,  and  as  they  drink  in  the  sweet  fluid,  lifting 
their  heads  to  prolong  the  swallowing,  they  manifest  to  the 
utmost  their  satisfaction  and  delight.  It  is  amusing  to  see 
them  lick  away  the  last  trace,  caressing  the  back  of  the 
segment  with  their  antennae  as  they  do  so,  as  though  they 
were  coaxing  for  a  little  more. 

In  Pseudargiolus  the  tubes  are  white,  cylindrical,  nearly 
equal  in  size,  rounded  at  summit,  and  studded  with  little 
tuberculations  from  which  arise  the  tentacles.  These  last 
are  tapering,  armed  with  small  spurs  set  in  whorls,  and  stand 
out  straight,  making  a  white  hemispherical  dome  over  the 
cylinder,  but  none  of  them  fall  below  the  plane  of  the  base 
of  the  dome,  nor  do  they  ever  hang  limp  or  lie  across  the 
dome,  as  is  the  case  in  a  European  species.  When  the  tube 
comes  up  the  rays  rise  in  a  close  pencil,  and  take  position  as 
the  dome  expands  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  when  the  tube  is 
withdrawn,  the  top  of  the  dome  sinks  first,  the  rays  coming 
together  in  pencil  again. 

Lyccena  pseudargiolus  is  subject  to  great  variation,  and 
occurs  under  many  forms,  most  of  which  having  been 
regarded  as  distinct  species.  In  the  early  spring  Violacea 


138 


Life  and  Immortality. 


appears,  and  is  characterized  by  dimorphism  in  the  female, 
some  of  that  sex  being  blue,  others  black.  This  form,  which 
may  be  called  the  winter  form,  deposits  its  'eggs  in  the  clus- 
ters of  flower-buds  of  the  Dogwood,  the  young  larvae  obtain- 
ing their  first  food  by.  boring  into  the  buds,  but  later  on 
eating  their  way  into  the  ovaries.  The  flies  that  come  from 
these  larvae  late  in  May  are  Pseudargiolus,  which,  as  stated 
before,  lays  its  eggs  on  Cimicifuga  racemosa,  most  of  the 


VIOLACEA  BUTTERFLY. 
Larva,  Protected  by  Ants,  Feeding  on  Flower-buds  of  Dogwood. 

resulting  butterflies  over-wintering  to  produce  Violacea.  A 
small  percentage  of  the  May  chrysalids  give  butterflies  as 
late  as  September,  which  are  smaller  than  the  parent-form, 
and  also  differ  therefrom  in  the  more  decided  character  of 
the  marginal  crescent  discal  spots  on  the  under  side  of  the 
wings.  There  does  not  seem  to  be  any  regular  second  sum- 
mer brood,  that  is,  there  are  but  two  regular  annual  broods, 
the  Violacea  of  March  and  the  Pseudargiolus  of  May,  the 


Honey-Producing  Caterpillars.  139 

individuals  happening  to  emerge  in  July,  August  and  Sep- 
tember being  irregular  visitants,  for  which  the  name  of 
Neglecta  has  been  given.  The  females  of  the  last  form  lay 
their  eggs  upon  Actinomeris  squarrosa,  and  the  chrysalids, 
thence  resulting,  give  Violacea  the  next  spring. 

Larvae  feeding  on  Dogwood  vary  much  in  color  from  those 
that  feed  on  the  Black  Snakeroot,  few  being  white  in  the  last 
stages,  but  nearly  all  dull-crimson  or  green,  or  a  mingling  of 
the  two.  Nevertheless,  a  small  percentage  of  the  larvae  on 
Cimicifuga  racemosa  are  also  green  or  crimson,  though  the 
most  of  them  white.  Ants  do  not  seem  to  visit  the  larvae  on 
the  Dogwood,  and  on  being  introduced  to  them  in  confine- 
ment treat  them  with  indifference.  On  rare  occasions  tubes 
have  been  discovered  in  the  eleventh  segment,  fully  expanded, 
and  accompanied  by  a  pulsating  movement,  but  no  teasing 
or  irritating  availed  to  make  them  appear.  Even  severe 
pressure  applied  to  the  sides  of  the  segment  failed  to  force 
out  any  fluid.  As  with  the  fall  food-plant,  Actinomeris 
squarrosa,  the  Dogwood  is  neither  sweet  nor  juicy,  and  it  is 
possible  that  the  larvae  feeding  on  these  plants  do  not  secrete 
the  fluid. 

Eggs  of  this  polymorphic  species  are  round,  flat  at  base, 
the  top  flattened  and  depressed,  and  have  a  diameter  of  one- 
fiftieth  of  an  inch.  Their  ground-color  is  a  delicate  green, 
the  entire  surface  being  covered  with  a  white  lace-work,  the 
meshes  of  which  being  mostly  lozenge-shaped,  with  a  short 
rounded  process  at  each  angle.  In  from  four  to  eight  days 
the  egg  hatches  into  a  larva,  which  is  scarcely  one-twenty-fifth 
of  an  inch  long,  and  whose  upper  side  is  rounded,  the  under 
being  flat.  On  each  side  of  the  dorsal  line  is  a  row  of  white 
clubbed  hairs,  with  similar  ones  at  the  base  and  in  front  of 
the  second  joint,  making  a  fringe  around  the  body.  The 
head  is  very  small,  obovoid,  retractile  and  black ;  the  legs 
retractile,  and  the  color  a  greenish-white  or  brownish-yellow. 

The  first  moult  occurs  in  from  three  to  five  days,  the  larva 
having  increased  to  twice  its  former  length,  while  very  little 


140  Life  and  Immortality. 

difference  is  manifest  in  the  coloration.  In  from  three  to 
five  days  the  caterpillar  has  again  changed  its  skin,  doubled 
its  length,  assumed  more  pronounced  colors,  which  are 
diversified  in  some  with  mottlings  upon  back  and  sides,  and 
developed  along  the  back,  from  the  third  to  the  tenth  joint, 
a  low,  broad,  continuous,  tuberculous  ridge,  cleft  to  the 
body  at  the  junction  of  the  segments,  the  anterior  edge  of 
each  joint  being  depressed,  the  sides  incurved.  The  third 
moult  takes  place  in  three  or  four  days  more,  but  there  is 
very  little  change  from  the  former  period.  Three  or  four 
days  subsequent  to  this  change  occurs  the  fourth  or  final 
moult,  and  in  five  or  six  days  from  this  the  larva  is  ready  to 
pass  into  the  chrysalis  state. 

In  its  mature  form  the  larva  is  about  one-half  of  an  inch 
in  length.  The  body  is  onisciform,  flattened  at  base,  fur- 
nished with  retractile  legs,  and  has  the  back  elevated  into  a 
rounded  ridge,  which  slopes  backwards  from  the  sixth  seg- 
ment. The  sides  are  rather  deeply  hollowed,  and  in  the 
middle  of  each  segment,  from  the  third  to  the  eleventh,  is  a 
vertical,  narrow  depression.  The  last  segments  are  flattened, 
the  last  of  all  terminating  roundly,  its  sides  being  narrowed 
and  slightly  incurved,  while  the  second  segment  is  flattened, 
arched  and  bent  nearly  flat  over  the  head.  Standing  on  the 
body  is  a  ridge,  tubercular  in  nature,  which  in  each  segment 
from  the  third  to  the  eleventh  is  distinct  and  cleft  to  the 
body.  In  color,  specimens  vary.  Some  examples  are  white, 
others  decidedly  greenish,  but  many  have  the  posterior  slope 
of  the  second  segment  black  or  dark  brown,  while  a  few  have 
most  of  the  back  a  dark  brown,  irregularly  mottling  a  light 
ground,  or  with  small  brown  patches  diffused  over  the  back, 
but  mostly  on  the  anterior  segments.  The  entire  surface  is 
velvety.  This  appearance  is  caused  by  minute  stellate  glossy 
processes,  scarcely  raised  above  the  surface,  mostly  six-rayed, 
and  sending  from  the  centre  a  concolored  filamentous  spine 
a  little  longer  than  the  rays.  These  stars  are  arranged  in 
nearly  regular  rows,  and  are  light,  except  in  the  brown 


Honey-Producing  Caterpillars.  141 

patches,  where  both  star  and  spine  are  brown.  This  velvet- 
like  condition  of  the  skin  only  reveals  its  true  composition 
under  a  magnifying  glass. 

On  the  eleventh  segment,  near  the  posterior  edge  of  the 
back,  is  a  transverse  slit,  in  a  sub-oval  spot,  from  which  pro- 
ceeds a  membranous  process ;  and  on  the  twelfth,  on  each 
side,  is  a  mark  like  a  stigma,  but  a  little  larger,  from  which 
proceeds  a  membranous  tube,  ending  in  a  crown  of  feathery 
tentacles,  these  three  special  organs  being  exposed  or  con- 
cealed at  the  will  of  the  larva.  The  head  is  small,  obovoid, 
dark  brown,  and  is  placed  at  the  end  of  a  long,  pale  green, 
conical  neck,  which  is  rectractile,  both  neck  and  head  being 
covered  by  the  second  segment. 

Before  changing  to  a  chrysalis,  the  summer  larvae  some- 
times turn  pink,  and  from  pink  to  brown,  or  become  brown 
without  the  pink  stage,  although  others  remain  white  or 
change  to  rusty  brown.  The  body  contracts  to  about  three- 
tenths  of  an  inch  and  takes  on  a  rounded  form. 

The  chrysalis  is  dark-brown  or  yellow-brown,  but  varying 
in  color,  the  wing-cases  being  dark  or  green-tinted.  Two 
sub-dorsal  rows  of  blackish  dots  are  found  on  the  abdomen, 
and  sometimes  a  dark  dorsal  line.  In  the  few  instances  in 
which  the  butterfly  emerges  the  same  season  the  duration 
of  this  stage  is  from  thirty  to  sixty  days,  but  most  chrys- 
alids  pass  the  winter  and  mature  in  the  spring. 

Now  for  a  description  of  the  butterfly.  In  general 
terms,  the  upper  side  of  the  wings  of  the  male  is  a  deep 
azure-blue,  with  a  delicate  terminal  black  border.  On  the 
apical  part  of  the  fore-wings  the  fringes  are  black,  but  white 
and  barred  with  black  on  the  rest  of  these  wings  and  on  the 
hind-wings.  In  the  female  the  fore-wings  have  a  broad, 
blackish  outer  border,  in  some  examples  extending  along  the 
costa,  while  the  hind-wings  have  a  blackish  costa  and  a  row 
of  dark  spots  along  the  outer  margin.  Usually  the  ground- 
color is  a  lighter  blue  in  the  females  than  in  the  males.  A 
pale  silvery  gray,  with  a  silky  lustre,  is  the  color  of  the 


142 


Life  and  Immortality. 


NEGLECTA  BUTTERFLY. 

Larva  Feeding  on  Central  Florets  of  Actinomeris,  and  Guarded  by  Ants. 


under  side  of  the  wings,  which  is  relieved  by  a  row  of  spots 
along  the  outer  margin,  each  preceded  by  a  crescent,  a 
curved  row  of  elongate  spots  across  the  disk  of  the  fore- 
wings,  and  several  spots  on  the  basal  part  of  the  hind-wings, 
all  the  markings  being  of  a  pale  brown  color.  Violacea,  the 
so-called  winter  form,  has  the  dark  parts  and  crescents  on 
the  under  side  of  the  wings  quite  prominent,  but  they  do 
not,  either  in  the  outer  border  or  in  the  basal  portion, 
coalesce.  Pseudargiolus,  the  largest  of  the  series,  there 
being  but  three  forms  in  Pennsylvania,  expands  one  and 
four-tenths  inches.  The  upper  surface  of  the  male  usually 
has  a  terminal  border  to  the  hind-wings  of  the  same  shade 
of  blue  as  is  visible  on  the  fore-wings,  the  middle  area  of 
the  hind-wings  being  a  little  paler  than  this  border  on  the 
fore-wings.  On  the  under  side  of  the  wings  the  spots  are 
much  smaller  than  on  the  preceding  form.  Neglecta,  which 


Honey-Producing  Caterpillars.  143 

resembles  Pseudargiolus,  and  has  the  spots  on  the  under 
surface  small,  is  a  smaller  form,  never  expanding  more  than 
one  and  one-tenth  inches.  It  is  a  summer  form  when 
there  is  more  than  one  generation  in  a  season,  ranging 
from  Canada,  through  New  England  to  West  Virginia  and 
Georgia,  and  occurring  also  in  Montana  and  Nevada. 
Violacea  has  a  more  extended  limit,  being  found  in  Alaska, 
British  America,  Ontario,  Quebec,  New  England  to  West 
Virginia,  and  Colorado,  while  Pseudargiolus  ranges  from 
Wisconsin  south  to  Tennessee,  and  on  the  east  from  Penn- 
sylvania to  Georgia. 


BUTTERIES. 


EARLY  in  March,  and  often  while  the  snow  yet  lingers 
upon  the  landscape,  may  be  seen  flying  in  and  out 
among  the  forest-trees,  or  lazily  meandering  along  some 
deserted  road  through  a  thicket,  the  beautiful  Antiopa.  Her 
rich  crimson  dress,  so  dark  that  it  almost  seems  black,  with 
its  buff-colored,  sky-dotted  border,  serves  to  distinguish  her 
from  her  no  less  interesting,  but  smaller,  sisters  of  the  Vanessa 
family  of  butterflies.  But  the  Antiopas  you  then  see  are 
generally  ragged  and  shabby,  which  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  when  it  is  considered  that  it  is  their  last  year's  dresses 
they  wear,  for  late  in  the  preceding  August  they  had  their 
being,  and  all  through  the  autumn  had  been  exposed  to  a 
hundred  misfortunes  or  more  while  seeking  their  living. 

But  with  the  coming  of  frost  and  of  cold  comes  the  blight- 
ing of  flowers.  A  feeling  of  torpor  in  consequence  steals  over 
their  once  bouyant  spirits,  and  into  some  crevice  in  a  barn 
or  a  wood-pile  or  stone-heap  they  creep,  and  there  sleep  the 
winter  away,  till  the  warmth  of  the  sun  from  his  southward- 
bound  journey  returning  sets  the  brown  buds  a-swelling, 
when  out  of  their  hibernating  retreats  they  leisurely  crawl  for 
a  flying  stroll  through  the  awakening  trees.  Slow  and 
deliberate  their  movements  are,  as  though  some  grave  and 
momentous  event  were  dependent  thereon. 

Never  have  I  watched  such  actions,  so  human-like  have 
they  seemed,  than  the  conviction  has  gone  home  to  my  mind 
that  they  plainly  evinced  a  thought  and  a  purpose,  which 
had  their  origin,  if  not  in  a  brain,  at  least  in  one  of  the  sev- 
eral ganglions  which  largely  make  up  their  wonderful  and 
somewhat  complicated  nervous  machinery. 


Hibernating  Butterflies.  145 

No  matter  how  low  in  intelligence  she  may  rank,  Antiopa 
has  nevertheless,  or  all  experience  is  at  fault,  some  general 
ideas  of  the  time  and  fitness  of  things.  From  her  gloomy 
abode  in  the  wood-pile  she  has  emerged,  while  all  the  gay 
butterfly  world,  barring  a  few  familiar  exceptions,  is  asleep, 
for  a  tour  of  investigation.  Her  venture  is  seldom  ill-timed, 
for  the  violets  have  preceded  her,  and  from  their  delicately 
curved  flagons  proffer  her  food  and  refreshment. 

Cool  and  unhealthful  as  the  mornings  are  at  first,  it  is  not 
till  the  sun  is  nearly  overhead  that  she  leaves  her  retreat,  for 
what  of  plant-life  exists  is  then,  under  the  full  force  of  his 
beams,  at  its  very  best.  Three  or  four  hours  a  day,  with  few 
intervals  of  rest,  she  is  actively  on  wing,  regaling  herself  with 
exercise  and  food,  thus  storing  little  by  little  her  body  with 
some  of  the  strength  and  vivacity  which  were  hers  when  the 
famine  of  winter  overtook  her  and  forced  her  to  retirement, 
so  as  the  better  to  prepare  for  that  work,  the  propagation  of 
her  kind,  which  is  the  principal,  but  not  the  only,  aim  of  her 
existence.  After  four  in  the  afternoon  her  presence  is  scarce, 
as  she  has  sought  her  old,  or  some  other,  place  of  shelter  and 
security. 

But  when  the  days  have  grown  longer  and  warmer,  and 
the  trees  are  arrayed  in  their  livery  of  green,  she  is  in  the 
fields  bright  and  early,  and  often  ere  the  dew  has  disap- 
peared from  the  grass  and  the  flowers.  The  most  restless 
of  beings  she  now  is.  Anon  alighting  upon  a  bush  for  a 
momentary  rest,  then  off  for  a  dozen  or  more  rods,  when 
the  presence  of  some  favorite  blossom  meets  her  quick  sight 
and  invites  her  to  pause,  which  she  does,  but  only  for  a 
second  to  quench  her  thirst.  Where  willows,  or  elms,  or 
poplars  abound,  she  is  more  frequently  seen  later  on  in  May, 
but  flying  more  slowly  and  sedately  than  ever  before.  The 
flowers  pass  unheeded.  She  seems  in  a  dream,  in  a  reverie. 
But  all  of  a  sudden  she  quickens  her  speed.  You  look 
for  the  cause.  There,  in  the  distance,  another  is  seen,  just 
like  her  in  mien,  some  would-be  suitor  for  her  hand  and 


1 46  Life  and  Immortality. 

affections.  He  enters  his  suit,  he  pleads  his  great  love,  and 
awaits  her  sweet  pleasure.  The  answer  is  brief,  and  soon 
by  their  actions,  as  high  up  in  the  air  they  circle  and  circle, 
caressing  each  other  with  strokes  of  the  antennae,  the  story 
is  told  that  his  love  has  been  requited.  A  brief  honey-moon 
of  two  or  three  days  and  the  love-scene  is  over,  and  the  two 
settle  down  to  the  prosy  realities  of  everyday  life.  The  male 
goes  back  to  his  old-time  pursuit  of  rifling  the  flowers  of  their 


MOURNING-CLOAK  BUTTERFLY. 
Larva  Feeding  on  Willow  Leaf,  and  Chrysalis  Suspended  from  Twig. 

honeyed  treasures,  whilst  the  female,  upon  whom  devolves 
the  duty  of  providing  for  the  offspring  whom  she  is  never 
likely  to  see,  looks  scrutinizingly  about  for  her  favorite  trees, 
the  poplar,  the  elm,  or  the  willow.  In  her  selection  of  a 
tree  a  wonderfully  keen  discernment  is  shown,  for  she  seldom, 
if  ever,  mistakes  her  plant-species. 

When  a  choice  has  been  made,  no  time  is  expended  in 
fruitless  endeavor.     She  proceeds  at  once  to  deposit  her  eggs. 


Hibernating  Butterflies.  147 

They  are  laid  in  a  cluster  round  the  twig,  and  near  the 
petiole  of  a  young  leaf,  upon  which  the  newly-hatched  larvae 
are  to  feed.  The  eggs  hatch  inside  of  a  week  into  small 
black  spiny  caterpillars  which,  in  their  early  stages,  are  very 
social  in  their  habits.  Just  before  the  final  skin-moulting 
they  separate,  each  caterpillar  living  alone,  the  necessity  for 
food,  which  their  very  vigorous  appetites  now  demand,  being 
the  impelling  motive.  In  a  state  of  maturity  the  larvse  are 
two  inches  in  length.  They  are  black,  and  minutely  dotted 
with  white,  which  gives  them  a  greyish  look.  A  row  of 
brick-red  spots  are  found  down  the  back,  and  their  body  is 
armed  with  many  black,  rather  long  and  slightly  branching 
spines.  The  head  is  black,  and  roughened  with  small  black 
tubercles. 

Having  completed  their  period  of  feeding,  which  they  do 
in  about  four  weeks,  the  caterpillars  attach  themselves  by 
means  of  their  tails  to  a  fence-rail,  a  window-ledge,  or  some 
such  place,  and  pass  into  the  chrysalis  state,  which  is  accom- 
plished in  about  four  days.  In  this  condition  they  present 
an  odd-looking  appearance.  The  head  will  be  found  to  be 
deeply  notched,  or  furnished  with  two  ear-like  prominences. 
The  sides  are  very  angular.  In  the  middle  of  the  thorax 
there  is  a  thin  projection,  somewhat  like  a  Roman  nose  in 
profile,  while  on  the  back  are  two  rows  of  very  sharp  tuber- 
cles of  a  tawny  color,  which  contrast  very  markedly  in 
coloration  with  the  dark-brown  of  the  rest  of  the  chrysalis. 
Fifteen  days,  when  the  weather  is  favorable,  are  sufficient  for 
the  development  of  the  imago,  or  butterfly.  As  maturity 
approaches,  the  chrysalis-shell  becomes  quite  soft,  and  the 
efforts  of  the  imago  to  free  itself  from  this  covering  are  facili- 
tated by  the  ejection  of  a  blood-red  fluid,  which  rots  the  case, 
while  it  acts,  at  the  same  time,  as  a  lubricant  to  the  emerging 
butterfly. 

When  these  caterpillars  are  very  abundant,  as  was  the 
case  in  the  vicinity  of  Germantown  some  twenty-five  years 
ago,  every  fence-rail  was  hung  with  chrysalids,  as  many  as 


148  Life  and  Immortality. 

a  dozen  being  found  upon  a  single  rail.  The  caterpillars 
even  climbed  up  the  sides  of  the  houses  and  suspended  them- 
selves from  the  window-ledges  and  the  edges  of  the  over- 
hanging shingles.  When  the  butterflies  emerged,  great 
blotches  of  the  fluid  bespattered  the  fences  and  houses  as 
though  the  clouds  had  rained  great  drops  of  blood.  The 
willows  and  poplars  were  alive  with  the  caterpillars,  and  even 
the  maples  were  overrun  when  there  came  a  scarcity  of  the 
leaves  of  the  natural  food-plants.  Green  caterpillar-hunters 
were  everywhere  plentiful,  and  the  writer  could  have  taken 
hundreds  of  specimens,  but  these  highly-useful  beetles  made 
a  very  sorry  attempt  in  holding  the  enemy  in  check. 

Two  broods  of  the  caterpillars  are  raised,  one  in  June  and 
the  other  in  August,  but  the  agencies  by  nature  employed 
for  their  destruction  so  effectually  accomplish  their  mission 
that  hardly  a  season  brings  to  my  notice  a  dozen  full-grown 
larvae.  Vanessa  antiopa,  as  this  species  is  called  by  the 
scientific  student,  or  Mourning-Cloak  by  people  and  ama- 
teurs, is  generally  found  through  the  whole  of  North  Amer- 
ica. In  England,  where  it  is  popularly  called  the  Camber- 
well  Beauty,  because  specimens  were  first  taken  near  Cam- 
berwell,  it  is  the  rarest  of  butterflies ;  while  on  the  Continent, 
as  in  this  country,  it  is  a  very  plentiful  insect. 


BEE. 


FEW  hymenoptera  of  the  family  of  bees  are  so  little 
known  as  the  Megachilidae,  or  Leaf-cutters.  They  are 
stout,  thick-bodied  insects,  with  large,  square  heads,  and 
armed  with  sharp,  scissors-like  jaws,  which  admirably  fit 
them  for  the  work  they  have  to  do  in  preparing  materials  for 
the  building  of  their  homes. 

Our  commonest  species,  Megachile  centuncularis,  is  about 
the  size  of  the  hive-bee.  In  gardens  and  nurseries  where 
shrubbery  abounds,  it  is  very  prevalent,  especially  the  female, 
which  is  readily  distinguished  by  a  thick  mass  of  stout, 
dense  hair  on  the  under  side  of  the  tail,  which  serves  as  a 
carrier  of  pollen.  The  honey-  and  bumble-bees  differ  mate- 
rially from  them,  for  they  have  the  hind  tibiae  and  basal 
joints  of  the  tarsi  very  much  broadened  for  that  purpose. 

Megachile  is  by  no  means  a  remarkable-looking  insect. 
Judging  from  its  very  humble  exterior,  one  can  hardly 
believe  it  possessed  of  the  wonderful  intelligence,  as  shown 
in  its  wise  provisions  for  its  young,  which  it  is  found  to 
display. 

Ordinarily  the  female,  who  is  entrusted  with  the  discharge 
of  this  very  essential  business,  places  her  nest  in  the  solid 
earth  underneath  some  species  of  shrub.  A  vertical  hole, 
three  inches  in  depth,  is  dug,  and  this  is  enlarged  into  a 
horizontal  gallery,  some  five  or  six  inches  in  length. 

You  should  see  the  little  creature  in  her  never-tiring  work 
of  preparing  material  for  her  nest.  In  and  out  among  the 
roses  she  goes,  examining  each  leaf  with  the  most  critical 
care,  and  only  desisting  from  her  labor  when  a  suitable  one 


150 


Life  and  Immortality. 

^^^SsMmSjWSIvi 


LEAF-CUTTER  BEE  AT  WORK. 
Two  Tunnels  Being  Filled  With  Leaf-Cells. 


has  been  chosen.  She  scans  it  over  and  over,  and  at  last 
from  a  position  on  its  upper  or  nether  surface  proceeds  to 
cut  a  piece  just  fitted  for  her  work,  which,  heavy  as  it  seems, 
is  seized  between  the  legs  and  jaws  and  carried  on  swiftly- 
agitated  wings  to  her  burrow. 

Ten  pieces  or  more,  each  differing  in  shape,  are  cut  and 
borne  away,  which  the  ingenious  insect  tailor  twists  and 
folds,  the  one  within  the  other,  until  is  formed  a  funnel-like 
cone,  whose  end  is  narrower  than  its  mouth.  So  perfectly 
joined  are  the  parts,  that  even  when  dry  they  have  been 
found  to  retain  their  form  and  integrity.  A  cake  of  honey 
and  pollen,  for  the  use  of  some  yet  unborn  Leaf-cutter,  is 


Leaf-  Cutter  Bee.  \  5 1 

deposited  within,  and  on  this,  in  due  time,  is  laid  a  single  small 
egg.  Nought  now  remains  but  to  wall  up  the  cell.  A 
circle  of  leaf,  of  the  size  of  the  opening,  is  cut,  and  this  is 
closely  adjusted  within  the  wall  of  rolled-up  leaves.  Some- 
times as  many  as  four  pieces  are  thus  utilized.  A  second 
cell,  similarly  built,  is  fitted  to  the  first,  and  this  is  succeeded 
by  eight  or  ten  others.  When  all  is  completed,  the  eggs 
being  laid  and  the  cells  all  victualled,  the  hole  of  the  shaft  is 
closed  with  the  earth  that  was  thrown  out,  and  so  carefully, 
too,  that  not  a  trace  of  her  doings  remains  to  tell  us  the 
story. 

Like  other  insects,  Megachile  is  occasionally  prone  to 
change.  Some  laborers  while  digging,  one  early  spring-day, 
some  thirteen  years  ago,  about  a  cluster  of  plants  of  Spircea 
corymbosa,  a  species  allied  to  the  roses  and  cinquefoils,  came 
unexpectedly  upon  a  dozen  or  more  cells  of  this  insect, 
arranged  horizontally  in  layers,  some  three  or  four  inches 
below  the  ground's  surface.  These  cells  were  three-fourths 
of  an  inch  in  length,  one-fourth  in  width,  and  formed  of  the 
leaves  of  Spiraea.  Six  circles,  of  three  pieces  each,  consti- 
tuted the  cell,  and  these  were  so  arranged  that  each  succeed- 
ing circle  was  made  to  project  but  slightly  beyond  its  pre- 
decessor. Six  circular  pieces,  larger  than  seemed  needful, 
closed  up  the  opening  of  each  cell.  That  there  was  a  pur- 
pose here  manifested  war  very  apparent.  This  purpose,  as 
it  appeared  to  the  writer,  was  the  better  accommodation  by 
the  hollow  surface  of  the  cell  that  was  to  follow,  and  the  giv- 
ing of  greater  firmness  and  security  to  the  entire  structure. 

More  curious,  however,  were  some  cells  that  were  found 
the  ensuing  year,  which,  in  looks,  resembled  very  closely 
those  of  Pelopaeus,  a  species  of  wasp,  familiarly  designated 
the  Mud-dauber.  These  cells,  in  numbers  of  three,  were 
adherent  to  the  rafters  of  a  hardly-used  garret.  In  form, 
and  in  the  peculiar  combination  of  their  pellets  of  clay,  they 
were  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  Mud-dauber's.  But  the 
curious  funnel-like  arrangement  of  leaves  on  the  inside,  so 


152  Life  and  Immortality. 

strikingly  characteristic  of  the  Megachilidae,  was  evidence  of 
the  most  positive  kind  that  Pelopaeus  had  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  their  putting  together.  It  bespoke  a  piece  of 
work  that  was  entirely  beyond  the  highest  capability  of  her 
being  to  execute. 

Each  of  the  included  leafy  cells  was  one  and  one-eighth 
inches  in  length,  and  just  barely  exceeding  one-fourth  in 
width.  Elliptical  pieces  of  Spiraea,  less  in  size  than  those 
previously  described,  but  arranged  in  a  similar  manner,  com- 
posed the  several  structures.  Within  each,  a  dead  but  per- 
fectly-formed Megachile,  encased  in  a  cylindrical  bag  of  silk, 
was  found,  so  that  there  could  be  no  possible  doubt  of  the 
builder.  That  this  inner  fabric  was  the  labor  of  some 
mother  Megachile  admits  not  of  a  scruple,  for  no  other  bee 
is  known  to  construct  a  nest  of  like  character.  But  what  of 
the  outer  enveloping  fabric  of  mud  ?  It  was  clearly  impos- 
sible for  the  skill  of  a  Megachile,  who,  while  certainly  fitted 
for  tunnelling  the  ground  and  for  snipping  circular  and 
elliptical  pieces  of  suited  dimensions  from  leaves  with  all  a 
tailor's  precision,  would  find  herself  wofully  unadapted  for 
the  making  of  mortar  and  the  building  of  nests,  in  imitations 
of  tunnels,  out  of  pellets  of  mud  that  had  to  be  moulded 
into  consistency  and  shape  by  the  jaws  of  the  builder.  Pelo- 
paeus alone,  of  all  hymenopters,  possesses  the  ability  and 
means  of  making  such  structures.  Megachile,  who  is  known 
to  occasionally  build  under  the  boards  of  the  roof  of  a  piazza, 
might  sometimes  in  her  quest  of  a  place  appropriate  the  dis- 
carded cells  of  some  pre-existent  Pelopaeus  for  nesting  pur- 
poses, but  she  runs  a  very  great  risk  in  so  doing,  for  the 
Mud-dauber  does  not  always  build  a  fresh  home  for  her 
treasures,  save  when  there  is  a  lack  of  the  last  year's  struct- 
ures. Old  nests,  when  found,  are  put  in  speedy  repair  and 
made  to  do  as  invaluable  a  service. 


BflTTIiE  BETWEEJt 


WHILST  reclining  one  beautiful  May  afternoon  in  the 
shade  of  an  oak  that  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  a 
thicket,  my  attention  was  arrested  by  the  activity  and 
bustle  presented  by  a  colony  of  yellow  ants,  which  proved 
to  be  the  Formica  flava,  so  common  everywhere. 

Scattered  indiscriminately  about  were  numberless  larvae  in 
various  stages  of  growth,  and  not  a  few  immobile  pupae, 
that  had  been  brought  up  from  subterranean  domiciles 
by  thoughtful  nurses,  while  here  and  there  were  a  dozen  or 
more  ants,  but  recently  escaped  from  their  mummy-cases, 
basking  in  the  sun's  warmth,  preparatory  to  entering  upon 
the  duties  of  the  formicarium. 

The  very  picture  of  restlessness  and  anxiety  were  these 
full-grown  neuters.  That  something  was  transpiring,  or  was 
about  to  transpire,  seemed  not  unlikely,  for  ovae,  larvae  and 
pupae  were  being  quickly  carried  to  places  of  concealment 
in  the  earth,  or  hustled  away  among  the  entangling  and  inter- 
lacing grasses. 

Looking  about  for  the  cause  of  all  this  excitement,  the 
truth  at  once  became  painfully  apparent.  Three  large,  burly 
ants,  representatives  of  Formica  subterranea,  a  black  species 
that  is  everywhere  abundant  in  wooded  regions,  had  intruded 
their  obnoxious  presence  into  the  happy  colony,  bent,  as  it 
was  evident,  on  pillage  or  slaughter. 

Were  plunder  the  inspiring  motive,  these  giant  invaders 
were  not  slow  to  learn  that  their  weaker  kin,  though  lacking 
their  strength,  could  more  than  match  them  in  cunning  and 
stratagem. 


154 


Life  and  Immortality. 


Not  daring  to  attack  the  foe,  and  being  unwilling  that  any 
of  their  number  should  be  led  into  slavery,  or  suffer  aught 
at  the  hands  of  others,  they  immediately  set  to  work  to 
destroy  all  whom  it  was  impossible  to  protect. 

Detailed  as  most  of  the  neuters  seemed  to  be  in  looking 
after  the  wants  of  the  immature,  there  were  a  few  observed 
running  hither  and  thither  and  seizing  in  their  jaws  the  newly- 
developed,  not  to  bear  them  out  of  the  reach  of  danger, 


BATTLE  BETWEEN  ANTS. 
Young  Destroyed  by  Nurses. 


as  was  at  first  supposed,  but  to  kill  them  so  as  to  prevent 
them  from  falling  a  living  prey  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

Knowing  the  sympathy  and  affection  which  the  nurses  are 
ever  wont  to  cherish  towards  the  objects  of  their  care,  this 
act  of  cruelty  struck  me  as  something  very  astonishing  and 
peculiar. 

Prompted  by  curiosity  to  know  the  nature  of  the  wounds 
thus  inflicted,  I  placed  upon  the  palm  of  my  hand  one  of  the 
wounded  ants,  and  made,  by  means  of  a  microscope,  a 


Battle  Between  Ants.  155 

careful  examination  of  its  injuries.  Above  and  below  the 
abdomen,  between  the  second  and  third  segments,  two 
deep  wounds,  which  met  ,each  other  in  the  interior,  were 
plainly  to  be  seen. 

Several  cases  of  the  kind  were  afterwards  noticed.  These 
were  not  accidental  occurrences,  made  through  efforts  to 
carry  the  young  to  places  of  shelter.  Possibly,  through 
inexperience,  accidents  might  happen  once  in  a  long  time, 
but  to  suppose  that  insects,  accustomed  to  handling  their 
young  as  the  neuters  assuredly  are,  would  be  likely  to  make 
such  blunders,  is  too  unreasonable  to  be  entertained.  Ad- 
mitting for  argument's  sake  that  such  things  might  occa- 
sionally occur,  would  successive  repetitions  be  expected?  I 
apprehend  not.  But  on  the  supposition  that  a  purpose  was 
thereby  subserved,  the  object  had  in  view  warrants,  it  would 
seem,  the  means  employed  for  its  accomplishment. 

What  the  purpose  was  it  will  now  be  my  aim  to  show. 
That  many  animals,  tame  as  well  as  wild,  are  wont  to  destroy 
disabled  and  wounded  companions,  is  well  established  by 
history.  In  many  instances  the  destruction  is  justified  to 
preserve  the  herd  or  pack  from  the  close  pursuit  of  enemies. 
"  Instinct  or  reason,"  as  Darwin  says,  "  may  suggest  the 
expelling  an  injured  companion,  lest  beasts  of  prey,  includ- 
ing man,  should  be  tempted  to  follow  the  troop." 

Audubon,  in  writing  of  the  wild  turkey,  so  abundant  in 
his  day,  observes  substantially  that  the  old  males  in  their 
marches  often  destroy  the  young  by  picking  the  head,  but 
do  not  venture  to  disturb  the  full-grown  and  vigorous.  The 
feeble  and  immature  being  an  encumbrance,  it  is  obvious  that 
the  watchfulness  and  attention  which  they  would  require, 
were  sympathy  and  affection  the  emotions  by  which  the 
males  are  actuated,  would  necessarily  retard  progress,  and 
lead  to  the  destruction  of  the  entire  flock.  Instinct  or  reason 
here  operates  for  individual  and  family  good. 

Granting  that  instinct  or  reason  does  sometimes  act  for 
individual  and  family  preservation  in  the  manner  described, 


156  Life  and  Immortality. 

I  am  not  willing  to  admit  that  in  every  case  that  may  arise 
in  which  the  weak  and  disabled  are  sacrificed,  that  it  is  done 
for  the  material  benefit  of  the  physically  able  and  robust. 
How  the  destruction  of  the  weak  and  nearly-developed  ant 
can  result  in  good  to  the  colony,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  not 
the  slightest  effort  to  escape  the  danger  by  flight  is  under- 
taken, the  sole  object  being  the  hiding  of  the  young,  it  is 
most  difBcult  to  conceive. 

There  seems  to  be  one  of  two  theories,  in  the  writer's 
judgment,  that  will,  in  anything  like  a  satisfactory  manner, 
account  for  this  strange,  abnormal  habit  upon  the  part  of  an 
insect  that  has  been  proverbially  distinguished  for  its  kind 
and  affectionate  disposition  towards  the  tender  beings  com- 
mitted to  its  trust ;  either  to  attribute  it  to  an  unwillingness 
and  dislike  to  see  its  offspring  made  the  servants  of  a  hostile 
race  or  the  subjects  of  ill-treatment  and  abuse,  or  to  the 
survival  of  a  habit  of  the  past  when  its  ancestors  were  a 
migratory,  or  nomadic,  species. 

That  a  feeling  of  repugnance  does  sometimes  take  posses- 
sion of  animal  nature  when  the  objects  of  parental  care  and 
solicitude  are,  or  are  about  to  be,  reduced  to  slavery  or  con- 
finement, and  impels  to  actions  of  cruelty,  will  be  patent 
from  what  follows  : — 

A  friend,  several  summers  ago,  having  procured  a  pair  of 
young  robins,  placed  them  in  a  cage,  which  he  hung  from 
a  tree-branch  close  to  his  dwelling,  where  the  parent-birds 
could  have  an  opportunity  to  feed  them.  All  went  well  for 
a  few  days,  when  the  parents,  who  had  busied  themselves  in 
the  intervals  of  feeding  in  attempts  to  secure  their  release, 
finding  their  efforts  unavailing,  flew  away,  but  only  to  return 
with  something  green  in  their  bills,  most  probably  poisonous 
caterpillars,  which  they  fed  to  their  offspring.  A  few  min- 
utes later  and  they  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  cage  dead,  but 
the  parents,  as  if  conscious  of  what  would  result,  flew  away, 
and  never  came  back. 


Battle  Between  Ants.  157 

May  it  not  be  that  the  parents,  finding  all  efforts  to  restore 
their  young  to  freedom  ineffectual,  sought  this  method  of 
saving  them  from  a  life  to  which  death  must  assuredly  be 
preferable?  Instances  of  like  character  might  be  adduced 
by  the  hundred,  but  enough  has  been  written  to  show  that, 
in  the  case  of  Formica  flava,  an  unwillingness  to  allow  the 
humblest  of  the  colony  to  be  taken  into  bondage  was  the 
motive  which  prompted  the  sacrifice. 


FISHES. 


NOT  alone  in  color  do  fishes  resemble  birds.  In  the 
home-life  and  love  of  offspring  a  close  resemblance 
obtains.  Many  are  nest-builders,  erecting  structures  quite 
as  complicated  as  those  of  some  birds,  and  hardly  less  elab- 
orate in  design  and  finish. 

Floating  along  some  woodland  stream,  or  strolling  along 
its  grass-fringed  margin,  we  have  watched  the  domestic  life 
of  the  Sun-fish,  the  Eupomotis  vulgaris  of  writers,  that  mot- 
tled, bespangled  beauty  that  seems  always  on  hand  to  be 
caught  by  the  angler  in  default  of  more  noble  game. 

Where  delicate  grasses  grow,  and  floating  lily-pads  cast 
their  shadows,  there  among  the  winding  stems  the  Sun-fish 
builds  its  home.  Moving  in  pairs  in  and  out  among  the 
lilies  near  the  shore,  as  if  jointly  selecting  a  site  for  a  nursery, 
they  may  be  seen.  The  spot  is  generally  a  gravelly  one,  and, 
once  determined  upon,  no  time  is  lost  in  pushing  the  work 
to  a  speedy  conclusion.  For  several  inches  around  the 
space  is  cleared  of  stems  or  roots,  and  these  are  carefully 
carried  away.  The  smaller  roots  are  swept  aside  by  well- 
directed  blows  of  their  tails,  or  by  mimic  whirlpools  which 
the  fishes,  standing  over  the  nest,  create  by  their  fins.  The 
stones  are  next  taken  up,  the  smaller  ones  in  their  mouths, 
the  larger  being  pushed  out  bodily,  or  fanned  away  by  the 
sweeping  process,  until  an  oval  depression,  with  a  sandy 
bottom,  finally  appears.  About  the  sides  the  stems  of 
aquatic  verdure,  which  seem  to  have  been  purposely  left, 
may  be  seen  standing,  and  these  now  naturally  fall  over, 
oftentimes  constituting  the  nest  a  perfect  bower,  with  walls 


Nest-Building  Fishes. 


159 


bedecked  with  buds,  while  the  roof  is  a  mat  of  white  lilies 
floating  upon  the  surface.  Here  the  eggs  are  deposited,  the 
male  and  female  alternately  watching  them. 

While  the  Sun-fish  is  always  recognized  as  the  most  peace- 
ful of  the  finny  tribe,  and  only  chasing  in  wanton  playfulness 
its  neighbors,  it  is  otherwise  when  the  passions  are  wrought 
to  a  high  pitch  of  excitement  through  the  play  of  amatory 
influences  in  the  spring-time.  Let  a  stranger,  a  bewhiskered 


NEST  OF  COMMON  SUN-FISH. 
Male  and  Female  Defending  It  from  Attack  of  Cat-fish. 


cat-fish,  approach  the  bower,  and  war  is  at  once  declared. 
The  little  creatures  snap  at  the  intruder  with  anger  and  defi- 
ance. Their  sharp  dorsal  fins  stand  erect,  the  pectorals  vibrate 
with  repressed  emotion,  while  the  violent  movements  of 
their  powerful  tails  evince  a  readiness  and  determination  to 
stand  by  their  home  at  all  hazards.  Indeed,  so  vigorous  is 
their  charge,  that  even  large  fishes  are  forced  to  retreat,  and, 


1 60  Life  and  Immortality. 

as  the  Sun-fishes  build  in  companies,  the  intruder  often  finds 
himself  attacked  by  a  whole  colony  of  them. 

Nearly  all  the  Sun-fishes  are  nest-builders,  some  forming 
arbors,  as  we  have  seen,  others  scooping  out  nests  on  sandy 
shoals,  while  one,  the  Spotted  Sun-fish,  is  more  democratic, 
affecting  muddy  streams,  where,  on  the  approach  of  cold 
weather,  it  makes  a  nest  in  the  muddy  bottom,  and  there  it 
lies  dormant  till  the  coming  spring. 

Who  has  not  made  friends  with  the  Dace — Rhinichthys 
atronasus?  ^He  is  a  veritable  finny  jester.  We  have 
watched  him  in  his  watery  retreat,  and,  perhaps  unseen, 
have  played  the  spy  upon  his  domestic  proceedings. 

Life  is  a  gala  time  to  these  little  fishes.  They  have  seem- 
ingly never  a  care  or  a  bother.  In  jest  they  join  in  the 
chase  of  some  curious  minnow  that  intrudes  upon  their 
presence,  suddenly  changing  their  course  to  dash  at  some 
resplendent  dragon-fly  that  hovers  over  the  leafy  canopy  of 
their  home,  and  as  quickly  darting  off  again  to  attack  some 
bit  of  floating  leaf  or  imaginary  insect. 

All  is  not  play,  however,  even  among  the  Dace.  The 
warm  days  of  June  usher  in  the  sterner  duties,  the  nesting- 
time.  Male  and  female  join  in  the  preparation,  and  a 
locality,  perhaps  in  shallow  water  in  some  running  brook,  is 
selected.  Roots,  snags  and  leaves  are  carried  away,  both 
fishes  sometimes  found  tugging  away  at  a  single  piece, 
taking  it  down-stream,  and  working  faithfully  and  vigor- 
ously until,  in  a  few  hours,  a  clearing  over  two  feet  in 
diameter  is  the  result. 

There  the  first  eggs  are  laid.  The  male,  who  has  retired, 
soon  appears  from  up-stream,  bearing  in  his  mouth  a  pebble, 
which  is  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  clearing.  Now  they 
both  swim  away,  but  soon  returning,  each  bearing  a  pebble, 
that  is  also  dropped  upon  the  eggs.  Slowly  the  work  pro- 
ceeds, until  a  layer  of  clean  pebbles  apparently  covers  the 
eggs.  A  second  layer  of  eggs  is  now  deposited  by  the 
female,  and  these  are  covered  by  pebbles  as  the  others  had 


Nest-Building  Fishes.  161 

been,  the  industrious  little  workers  scouring  the  neighbor- 
hood for  them,  seemingly  piling  up  eggs  and  stones  alter- 
nately until  the  heap  attains  a  height  of  eight  inches  or 
more.  These  heaps  vary  in  shape,  some  being  pyramidal, 
and  others  dome-shaped. 

Such  patience  as  these  finny  housekeepers  manifest  is  not 
appreciated  by  man.  The  gleaners  of  the  golden  fields,  in 
whose  waters  our  little  friends  are  found,  have  not  discovered 
their  secret,  and  think  the  curious  piles  the  washes  of  the 
brook  itself.  But  their  purpose  is  the  protection  of  their 
eggs.  In  swift-running  streams,  which  these  fish  are  so  wont 
to  affect,  the  eggs  would  be  washed  away,  and,  driven  against 
rocks  and  snags,  would  be  destroyed,  or,  even  escaping 
destruction,  would,  by  the  undulating  movement  to  which 
they  would  become  subjected,  be  rendered  impossible  of 
incubation.  Besides,  were  they  not  thus  protected,  even 
though  there  was  no  danger  of  being  washed  away,  they 
would  become  easy  prey  to  the  attacks  of  carnivorous 
fishes. 

Unlike  as  the  Lamprey-eels  are  in  structure  to  the  Dace, 
yet  in  their  habits  of  erecting  a  nest  they  are  very  similar. 
Upon  our  Eastern  sea-board  they  are  a  common  species, 
inhabiting  both  salt  and  fresh  water.  In  the  early  spring 
they  follow  the  shad  up  the  rivers,  occasionally  preceding 
them,  and  search  about  for  suitable  localities  in  which  to 
deposit  their  spawn.  They  clean  away  the  stones  as  the 
Dace  were  seen  to  do,  bending  their  long  bodies  in  coils, 
which  they  use  in  pushing  aside  the  accumulation  on  the 
bottom.  To  the  unlearned  the  appearance  of  two  Eels,  each 
three  feet  in  length,  twisting  and  seemingly  coiling  about 
each  other,  would  be  indicative  of  war.  But  having  cleaned 
for  themselves  a  smooth  spot,  the  Lampreys  proceed  to  place 
stones.  Irregularly-shaped  stones  of  small  size  are  easily 
and  quickly  transported  in  their  mouths,  but  when  stones 
that  weigh  several  pounds  are  to  be  brought,  the  tactics  they 
adopt  are  worthy  of  an  engineer.  As  the  spots  chosen  for 


1 62  Life  and  Immortality. 

the  rearing  of  their  submarine  castles  are  ordinarily  sub- 
jected to  a  swift  current,  the  largest  stones,  which  it  would 
be  thought  impossible  for  them  to  move,  are  looked  for  up 
stream.  A  suitable  one  found,  and  a  favorable  position  pre- 
sented, the  sucking  mouth  is  fastened  to  it,  and  by  a  con- 
vulsive effort,  the  tail  of  the  fish  being  raised  aloft,  the  heavy 
stone  is  lifted  from  its  place,  the  current  pushing  against  the 
fish  and  stone,  bearing  them  along  several  feet  before  they 
sink.  Another  effort  of  the  fish,  and  the  rock  is  again  raised 
and  carried  'down  stream,  until  finally,  by  repeated  liftings 
and  struggles,  the  ingenious,  persevering  nest-builder  is  swept 
down  to  the  nest,  where  the  load  is  deposited.  This  labo- 
rious work  is  carried  on  until  the  pile  has  attained  a  height 
of  two  or  three  feet,  and  a  diameter  of  four.  No  special  form 
seems  to  be  necessary.  The  nest  is  generally  oval,  compact 
and  well  devised  to  contain  the  eggs,  which  are  carefully 
deposited  within,  thus  affording  protection  in  its  numerous 
interstices  for  the  young  when  they  hatch.  When  about  six 
inches  long,  the  young  Petromyzon  marinus,  which  is  a  strange 
little  fellow,  is  devoid  of  teeth,  and  blind,  and  possesses  so 
many  characteristics  distinct  from  the  parent,  that  for  a  long 
time  he  was  considered  a  separate  species,  and  even  assigned 
a  place  in  a  different  genus.  Enormous  nests  are  sometimes 
built.  John  M.  Batchelder,  Esq.,  describes  one,  which  he 
saw  in  the  Saco  River,  Maine,  that  was  about  fifteen  feet 
long,  and  from  one  to  three  feet  in  height,  its  position  and 
triangular  shape  in  vertical  section  being  well  adapted  for 
securing  a  change  of  water,  and  a  hiding-place  for  the  young. 
The  operation  of  building  was  very  methodical,  a  hundred 
and  more  Eels  being  at  work  upon  the  structure.  Water- 
worn  stones,  chips  of  granites  and  fragments  of  bricks,  some- 
times weighing  as  much  as  two  pounds  and  transported  by  a 
single  individual,  were  utilized  in  the  building. 

More  remarkable,  however,  than  any  previously  described, 
are  the  nests  of  the  Fresh-water  Chub,  Semotilus  bullaris, 
which  is  known  in  some  localities  as  the  Stone  Toter. 


Nest-Building  Fishes. 


163 


BLACK-NOSED  DACE. 
Constructing  Their  Nest  of  Pebbles. 


This  fish  attains  a  length  of  about  fifteen  inches.  The  finest 
nests  are  on  the  shores  of  Westminster  Island,  but  they  are 
common  on  nearly  every  island  that  has  a  sandy,  gravelly 
shore  among  the  many  that  make  up  the  Thousand  Islands. 
The  nest  is  a  pile  of  stones,  sometimes  measuring  ten  feet 
across  at  the  base,  four  feet  in  height,  and  containing  a  good- 
sized  cart-load  of  stones,  weighing  in  all  perhaps  a  ton. 
Stones  from  small  pebbles  to  some  four  inches  in  length 
were  used,  and  as  some  of  the  nests  are  placed  at  consider- 
able distances  from  the  gravel-beds,  and  each  stone  repre- 
sented a  journey,  the  amount  of  labor  performed,  when 
it  is  considered  that  tens  of  thousands  of  stones  must  have 
been  used  in  the  building,  certainly  was  incredible.  Each 
stone  is  brought  in  the  mouth  of  the  Chub  and  dropped 
over  the  piles,  one  or  more  fishes  working  at  the  same 
heap.  Some  plan  is  evidently  followed  in  the  work, 
the  first  deposit  of  stones  being  small,  and  dropped  so  as  to 


1 64  Life  and  Immortality. 

form  a  circle  or  semi-circle.  The  largest  heaps  are  undoubt- 
edly the  work  of  successive  years,  the  nests  being  annually 
added  to  during  the  last  of  May  or  June,  when  the  Chubs 
are  seen  lying  in  the  heaps,  at  which  time  the  eggs  are  prob- 
ably deposited,  All  the  labor  of  piling  up  is  to  protect  them 
from  predatory  fishes,  a  necessary  and  wise  provision,  as 
cat-fish,  rock-bass,  perch  and  others  prey  upon  the  eggs. 

In  gravelly  beds  the  Trout  excavates  a  simple  nest,  a  mere 
depression  in  the  sand,  that  is  not  at  all  incomparable  to  the 
nest  of  some  species  of  gulls.  A  furrow  in  the  gravelly 
bottom  of  a  river,  often  ten  feet  in  length,  the  depression 
being  made  as  fast  as  it  is  required,  is  the  nest  of  the  Salmon. 
In  Canadian  rivers  these  nests  can  be  easily  distinguished  by 
the  lighter  marking  in  the  bottom. 

Few  persons  of  the  many  who  delight  to  drift  along  our 
sea-shores  are  unfamiliar  with  the  Toad-fish.  So  closely  does 
he  in  shape  and  color  resemble  a  moss-covered  stone  that 
his  enemies  are  deceived.  Intrenched  among  the  weeds  and 
gravel,  which  the  mother-fish  carelessly  throws  aside,  after 
the  fashion  of  some  of  the  gulls,  the  young  are  reared, 
their  yolk-sacs  enabling  them  to  cling  to  the  rocks  of  the 
nest  soon  after  birth.  There,  under  the  watchful  eye  of  the 
parent,  they  remain  until  old  enough  to  swim  away. 

But  the  most  vigilant  of  all  nest-builders  is  the  Four- 
spined  Stickleback — Apeltes  quadracus.  In  some  neighbor- 
ing stream,  that  sooner  or  later  finds  its  way  to  the  ocean,  he 
may  be  found.  There  are  different  species  of  these  fish,  but 
their  architectural  ideas  are  pretty  much  the  same.  They 
vary  mainly  in  the  locations  they  select  for  nesting.  Some 
place  the  nests  upon  the  bottom,  concealed  among  the 
sea-weed  found  there,  while  others  hang  theirs  from  some 
projecting  ledge,  or  swing  it  in  the  tide  from  the  sunken 
bough  of  some  overhanging  tree.  As  is  unusual,  the 
work  of  nidification  is  solely  performed  by  the  male 
Stickleback,  the  female  taking  no  part  in  the  labor.  The 
spawning  season  having  arrived,  he,  assuming  a  bright 


Nest-Building  Fishes.  165 

nuptial  lustre,  shows  remarkable  activity  in  selecting  a  site 
for  an  edifice,  and  transporting  the  building  material  thither. 
Fragments  of  all  kinds  of  plants,  gathered  often  at  a  distance, 
are  brought  home  in  his  mouth.  These  are  arranged  as  a 
sort  of  a  carpet,  but  as  there  is  danger  of  the  light  materials 
being  carried  away  by  the  current,  they  are  weighted  down 
by  sand  to  keep  them  in  their  places.  Having  entwined  them 
with  his  mouth  to  his  complete  satisfaction,  he  then  glides 
gently  over  them  on  his  belly,  and  glues  them  with  the 
mucus  that  exudes  from  his  pores.  More  solid  materials, 
sometimes  bits  of  wood,  sometimes  bits  of  straw,  which  he 
seizes  with  his  mouth,  are  adjusted  to  the  sides  of  the  floor 
to  constitute  the  walls.  He  is  now  very  particular.  If  the 
piece  cannot  be  properly  adjusted  to  his  building,  and  he 
does  not  lose  patience  in  his  efforts  to  fit  it  in,  he  carries  it 
to  some  distance  from  the  nest  and  leaves  it.  After  the  side 
walls  are  erected,  a  roof  of  the  same  materials  with  the  floor 
is  laid  over  the  chamber.  Firmness  is  given  to  the  whole 
structure  by  passing  over  it  with  his  body,  the  light  and 
useless  particles  being  fanned  away  by  the  action  of  his  fins 
and  the  vibratory  movements  of  his  tail.  In  carrying  on  his 
building  operations  care  is  taken  to  preserve  a  circular 
opening  into  the  chamber,  his  head  and  a  great  part  of  his 
body  being  thrust  therein,  thus  widening  and  consolidating 
it,  and  rendering  it  a  fit  receptacle  for  the,  female.  When 
choosing  material,  the  fish  has  been  seen  testing  its  specific 
gravity  by  letting  it  sink  once  or  twice  in  the  water,  and  if 
the  descent  was  not  rapid  enough  finally  abandoning  it. 

Of  the  exact  method  used  by  the  fish  in  binding  the  nest 
together  we  are  indebted  to  Prof.  Ryder.  The  male  fish 
spins  from  a  pore  or  pores  a  compound  thread,  using  his 
body  to  insinuate  himself  through  the  interstices  through 
which  he  carries  the  thread.  The  thread  is  spun  fitfully, 
not  continuously.  He  will  go  round  and  round  the  nest  per- 
haps a  dozen  times,  when  he  will  rest  awhile  and  begin  anew. 
Its  shape  is  somewhat  conical  before  completion.  The 


1 66  Life  and  Immortality, 

thread  is  wound  round  and  round  the  nest  in  a  horizontal 
direction,  and  when  freshly  spun  is  found  to  consist  of  six 
or  eight  very  thin  transparent  fibres,  which  have  alternated 
tapering  ends  where  they  are  broken  off.  Very  soon  after 
the  thread  is  spun,  particles  of  dirt  adhere  to  it,  and  render  it 
difficult  to  interpret  its  character.  The  nest  measures  one- 
half  of  an  inch  in  height,  and  three-eighths  in  diameter. 

The  time  occupied  in  collecting  materials  and  constructing 
the  nest  ii  about  four  hours,  and  when  all  is  ready  the  male 
starts  out  to  seek  a  female,  and,  having  found  her,  conducts 
her  with  many  polite  attentions  to  the  prepared  home.  The 
eggs  being  deposited,  the  male  establishes  himself  as  a  guardian 
of  the  precious  treasures,  not  even  suffering  the  female  to 
approach  it  again.  Every  fish  that  comes  near,  no  matter 
how  large,  is  furiously  assailed.  He  gives  battle  valiantly, 
striking  at  their  eyes  and  seizing  their  fins  in  his  mouth. 
His  sharp  dorsal  and  ventral  spines  are  very  effective  weapons 
in  his  defence.  Constant  watchfulness  upon  the  part  of  the 
male  is  needed,  for,  if  he  go  away  for  only  a  few  moments, 
the  sticklebacks  and  other  fish  lurking  in  the  vicinity  rush 
in  and  devour  the  eggs  in  an  instant.  A  whole  month  he  is 
occupied  in  providing  for  the  safety  of  his  offspring.  About 
the  tenth  day  he  employs  himself  in  tearing  down  the  nest 
and  carrying  the  material  to  some  little  distance.  The  fry 
may  now  be  observed  in  motion.  And  these  the  male  con- 
tinually nurses,  suffering  no  encroachment,  and  if  the  young 
brood  show  a  tendency  to  stray  beyond  bounds,  they  are 
driven  back  within  their  precincts,  until  they  are  strong 
enough  to  provide  for  their  own  living,  when  both  old  and 
young  disappear  together. 

But  nothing  in  the  lives  of  all  these  little  nest-builders  is 
more  interesting  than  the  intelligence  they  display  and  the 
facility  with  which  they  adapt  themselves  to  circumstances. 
They  seem  to  be  able  to  grasp  almost  instantly  the  conditions 
of  the  environment,  and  to  employ  a  wise  discrimination  in 
suiting  them  to  their  wants.  Hardly  two  nests  are  alike. 


Nest-Building  Fishes.  167 

Marked  differences  in  details  of  structure,  configuration  and 
surroundings  are  apparent,  which  prove  that  these  creatures 
are  controlled  by  reason,  rather  than  instinct,  in  the  elabo- 
ration of  their  homes.  That  they  have  some  means  of  com- 
municating their  desires  to  each  other  cannot  be  doubted. 
When  the  male  has  laid  hold  of  a  stem,  a  pebble  or  a  stick 
that  completely  baffles  all  effort  at  removal,  his  mate  seems 
summoned  to  his  assistance,  and  the  united  strength  of  the 
pair  accomplishes  the  object  to  be  gained.  There  is  ever 
noticeable  in  whatever  the  sexes  undertake  some  concert  of 
action  which  would  put  to  shame  the  boasted  intelligence  of 
man  himself.  The  Sun-fishes,  as  has  been  said,  nest  in  com- 
panies. When  the  combined  effort  of  two  individuals  is  un- 
able to  expel  an  invader,  the  entire  community,  as  by  a  single 
mighty  impulse,  rises  up  against  the  foe.  There  is  evidence 
of  some  form  of  society,  even  though  simple  in  its  organiza- 
tion, where  individual  members  league  themselves  together 
for  mutual  protection  and  defence.  Other  examples  might 
be  cited  to  give  the  reader  a  common-sense  estimate  of  the 
comparatively  high  order  of  intelligence  that  characterizes 
the  actions  of  many  of  our  fishes. 


SMPPEftY  flS  fiN  EEL 


EKLS  are  found  in  almost  all  warm  and  temperate  coun- 
tries, and  grow  to  a  very  great  size  in  tropical  regions. 
They  are  impatient  of  cold,  and  hence  do  not  exist  in  the 
extreme  northern  and  southern  parts  of  the  world.  In  many 
islands  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  they  are  held  in  considerable 
estimation,  being  preserved  in  ponds  and  fed  by  hand,  but  in 
many  civilized  communities  a  strong  prejudice  prevails 
against  them,  probably  from  their  similarity  to  snakes,  which 
prevents  even  a  hungry  man  from  caring  to  eat  such  whole- 
some and  nutritious  food. 

Not  one  of  our  river  fishes  is  so  mysterious  as  the  Eel,  and 
although  much  is  now  known  that  was  involved  in  obscurity, 
yet  there  is  still  much  to  learn  of  its  habits,  especially  the 
manner  of  its  reproduction.  Difference  of  locality,  it  is 
likely,  may  influence  the  Eel  and  cause  a  difference  of  habit, 
an  opinion  which  seems  warranted  from  the  various  and  per- 
plexing accounts  that  have  been  given  of  its  customs  by 
numerous  practical  observers. 

During  the  hot,  still  and  sunny  days  of  June  they  are 
chiefly  seen  on  top  of  the  water,  wherever  masses  of  aquatic 
weeds  may  be  found,  either  in  the  calm  enjoyment  of  a  sun- 
bath,  or  for  the  purpose  of  feeding  upon  the  myriads  of  gnats, 
moths  and  flies  that  seek  the  plants  for  rest  or  food,  and 
which  by  unavoidably  damping  their  wings  become  easy  prey 
to  their  ambushed  enemies.  At  night,  similar  retreats  are 
affected  for  like  purposes.  Floating  masses  of  detached 
weeds  that  the  eddying  stream  has  wound  and  kept  in  one 
place  are  sought  in  warm,  stilly  weather,  but  in  blowing, 


Slippery  as  an  Eel.  169 

cooler  or  rainy  weather  they  forsake  such  places  for  the  still, 
deep  ditches.  If  a  flush  of  water  comes,  and  a  little,  shallow 
stream,  running  from  or  into  the  main  river,  becomes  fuller 
than  usual,  there  they  resort  in  vast  numbers,  evidently 
pleased  with  the  delicious  change,  only  to  remain  as  long  as 
its  freshness  continues. 

Like  many  other  fishes,  Eels  are  very  tenacious  of  life, 
and  can  live  a  long  time  when  removed  from  the  water, 
owing  to  a  simple  and  beautiful  modification  of  structure, 
which  permits  them  to  retain  a  sufficient  amount  of  moisture 
to  keep  the  gills  damp  and  in  a  condition  to  perform  their 
natural  functions.  They  have  been  seen  crawling  over  con- 
siderable distances,  somewhat  snake-like  in  their  movements, 
evidently  either  in  pursuit  of  water,  their  own  dwelling-place 
being  nearly  dried,  or  in  search  of  some  running  stream  in 
whose  waters  they  may  reach  the  sea  after  the  customary 
manner  of  their  race.  Multitudes  of  Eels,  both  old  and 
young,  some  of  the  latter  scarcely  six  inches  in  length, 
have  been  seen  crawling  up  the  banks  of  a  creek,  apparently 
without  any  purpose,  and  over  the  smooth  surface  of  a  pro- 
jecting rock,  with  all  the  ease  of  a  fly  moving  over  a  ceiling. 
So  active  were  the  little  ones  as  to  defy,  unless  the  hand  was 
moved  with  extreme  rapidity,  their  capture.  Vast  numbers 
of  these  little  Eels  are  in  the  habit  of  proceeding  up  the 
rivers  in  the  spring-time.  In  some  places  in  England  they  are 
called  Elvers.  They  are  caught  in  immense  quantities,  and 
scalded  and  pressed  into  masses  termed  Eel-  or  Elver-cake. 
When  dressed  these  little  Eels  afford  a  luxurious  repast. 
Towards  the  latter  part  of  summer  these  fishes  migrate 
towards  the  sea,  being  capable  of  living  in  fresh  or  salt 
water  with  equal  ease,  the  mouths  of  rivers  constituting 
favorite  localities.  Even  in  our  seaport  towns  and  marine 
watering-places  the  common  river  Eel  is  caught  by  those  who 
are  angling  in  the  sea  for  fish. 

Various  modes  of  capturing  Eels  are  adopted  by  man. 
Bobbing,  or  clodding  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  is  a  very 


1 70  Life  and  Immortality. 

common  and  successful  method,  consisting  in  bunching  a 
number  of  earthworms  upon  a  worsted  string,  and  lowering 
it  near  the  place  where  the  fishes  are  supposed  to  be  feeding. 
So  eagerly  do  the  voracious  fish  seize  the  bait,  and  so  fiercely 
do  they  bite,  that  they  are  pulled  out  of  the  water  before 
they  have  time  to  collect  their  thoughts  and  disengage  their 
teeth  from  the  string.  Night-lines,  which  are  laid  in  the 
evening  and  taken  up  in  the  morning,  are  another  plan.  But 
the  raost  successful  method  is  by  spearing.  The  spear  used 
for  the  purpose  is  not  unlike  the  conventional  trident  of 
Neptune,  except  that  the  prongs  are  four  in  number,  flattened, 
slightly  barbed  on  each  edge,  and  spread  rather  widely  from 
their  junction  with  the  shaft.  This  is  pushed  at  random  into 
the  muddy  banks  where  the  Eels  love  to  lie,  and  when  one  is 
caught,  its  long  snake-like  body  is  wedged  in  between  the 
jagged  prongs  and  lifted  into  the  boat  before  it  is  able  to 
extricate  itself.  Almost  any  kind  of  food  that  it  can  master, 
whether  aquatic  or  terrestrial,  is  eaten  to  satisfy  the  crea- 
ture's most  voracious  appetite.  Even  mice  and  rats  fall 
victims  to  its  hunger,  and  an  Eel  is  recorded  to  have  been 
found  floating  dead  on  the  water,  having  been  choked  to 
death  by  a  rat  which  it  had  essayed  to  swallow,  but  which 
proved  too  large  a  morsel  for  its  throat. 

So  remarkable  is  the  tenacity  of  life  which  this  fish  pos- 
sesses>  that  after  the  creature  has  been  cut  up  into  lengths, 
each  separate  piece  will  move  as  if  alive,  and  at  the  touch  of 
a  pin's  point  will  curve  itself  as  though  it  felt  the  injury. 
When  all  irritability  has  ceased,  the  portions  will  flounce 
vigorously  about  if  placed  in  boiling  water,  and  even  after  its 
influence  has  ceased  will,  upon  the  addition  of  salt,  jump 
about  as  vigorously  as  before.  There  can  be  no  real  sensa- 
tion, let  it  be  understood,  as  the  spinal  cord  has  been  severed 
and  all  connection  with  the  brain,  which  is  the  seat  of  sensa- 
tion, has  been  cut  off. 

How  the  Eel  reproduces  its  kind  has  long  been  a  subject 
of  discussion.  Some  held  that  the  young  is  produced  in  a 


Slippery  as  an  Eel.  171 

living  condition,  and  others  that  it  is  hatched  from  the  egg. 
The  matter  has,  however,  been  set  at  rest  by  the  microscope, 
which  shows  that  the  oily-looking  substance,  generally  called 
fat,  which  is  found  in  the  abdomen  of  the  Eel,  is  really  an 
aggregation  of  eggs,  and  that  these  objects,  minute  as  they 
are,  and  which  are  not  so  large  as  the  point  of  a  pin,  are 
quite  as  perfect  in  their  structure  as  the  eggs  of  a  moth  or  a 
bird  are  seen  to  be  to  the  naked,  unaided  vision. 

Anguilla  rostrata,  as  the  Common  American  Eel  is  techni- 
cally known,  is  abundant  in  the  United  States,  living  in  fresh- 
water streams,  but  depositing  its  eggs,  often  eight  millions  to 
a  single  fish,  in  the  ocean,  the  young  ascending  the  rivers. 
Eels  are  devoid  of  ventral  fins.  Their  scales,  which  are  very 
minute,  are  covered  with  a  thick,  slime-like  material.  Under 
the  microscope  each  scale  is  beautifully  ornamented,  and  the 
exquisite  pattern  formed  by  the  scales  on  the  skin  may  be 
readily  and  effectively  seen  if  a  bit  of  it,  when  fresh,  be 
placed  on  the  window-glass  and  allowed  to  dry.  The  sexes 
are  difficult  to  distinguish;  the  females  have  the  highest 
dorsal  fin,  smaller  eyes,  and  a  lighter  color  than  the  males, 
while  the  snout  is  generally  broader  at  the  tip. 

When  contiguous  to  the  sea,  as  in  a  pond  near  Wells,  on 
the  coast  of  Maine,  the  Eels  invariably  go  down  into  salt 
water  at  night.  As  the  connecting  stream  is  narrow,  the 
sight  is  remarkable,  thousands  filling  the  channel,  many  of 
whom,  when  alarmed,  leaving  the  water  and  passing  over  the 
dry  rocks  to  the  ocean.  Eels  are  not  the  silent  creatures 
which  many  persons  suppose  them  to  be.  They  frequently 
utter  a  sound,  expressed  by  a  single  note,  which  is  more 
distinctly  musical  than  the  sounds  made  by  other  fishes,  and 
which  has  a  clear  metallic  resonance.  They  are  of  slow 
growth,  scarcely  reaching  the  length  of  twelve  inches  during 
the  first  year,  but  subsequently  attaining  to  large  dimensions, 
the  preserved  skins  of  two  Eels,  which  Mr.  Yarrall  saw  at 
Cambridge,  England,  weighing  together  fifty  pounds,  the 
heavier  being  twenty-seven  pounds  in  weight. 


172 


Life  and  Immortality. 


COMMON  AMERICAN  EEL. 
How  It  Seeks  New  Feeding-Grounds. 


Fish,  as  a  rule,  do  not  live  more  than  a  few  minutes  out  of 
the  water.  An  Eel,  however,  will  remain  alive  for  many 
hours,  and  even  days,  in  atmospheric  air,  provided  it  is  laid 
in  a  damp  place.  Now,  if  one  be  carefully  watched  when 
placed  upon  dry  land,  it  will  be  observed  to  pout  out  the 
cheeks  on  both  sides  of  its  face.  Underneath  this  puffed- 
out  skin  will  be  found  the  gills,  and  the  skin  which  covers 
them  will  be  seen  to  be  so  arranged  as  to  form  a  closed  sac, 
which  the  Eel  fills  with  water,  and  so  keeps  the  gill-fibres 
moist.  This  wonderful  contrivance  enables  the  Eel  to  come 
out  of  the  water,  and  to  travel,  so  to  speak,  by  land.  Thus 
Eels  are  often  found  in  outlying  ponds  of  human  construc- 
tion, where  they  were  never  placed  by  the  hand  of  man. 
Finding  old  quarters  uncomfortable,  they  take  in  a  good 
supply  of  water,  and  exchange  them  for  the  better,  not  by 
repeated  leaps  towards  the  water,  as  some  fish  are  known  to 
do,  but  by  a  smooth,  uniform  snake-like  progression. 

That  some  fishes  should  leave  the  water  and  travel  over- 
land is,  perhaps,  not  more  remarkable  than  that  some  birds, 
the  ouzel  for  example,  should  leave  their  natural  element  and 
fly  into  and  under  the  water.  Whoever  knows  the  hidden 


Slippery  as  an  Eel.  173 

paths  of  the  marsh  has  doubtless  watched  the  brown-hued 
Eels  wriggling  their  way  through  the  grass  from  one  pool  to 
another,  especially  at  night,  leaving  their  home  and  wander- 
ing about,  seemingly  unconscious  whither  their  pilgrimage 
will  end. 

"  Slippery  as  an  Eel  "  is  proverbial.  Many  a  person  has, 
by  his  slick,  cunning  ways,  succeeded  in  eluding  the  law  and 
escaping  justice,  affording  an  apt  illustration  of  the  character 
of  the  animal  about  which  we  have  been  talking,  but  the 
slipperiness  of  the  Eel  is  not  given  to  it  that  it  may  take 
some  unlawful  advantage  of  its  neighbors,  but  that  it  may  the 
more  readily  slip  from  the  grasp  of  a  more  powerful  enemy, 
or  the  more  easily  make  its  way  into  the  muddy  depths  of 
the  pond  or  stream  which  it  so  very  much  affects.  So  it  will 
be  seen  that  while  this  slippery  character  in  the  one  is  pro- 
tective, in  the  economy  of  nature,  for  a  wise  and  laudable 
purpose,  yet  in  the  other  it  but  secures  to  the  possessor  the 
getting  of  an  ignoble  gain  and  the  ruin  of  a  once  proud 
name. 

While  these  agile  denizens  of  aquatic  life  are  selfish  and 
voracious  almost  beyond  precedent,  and  apparently  more 
concerned  in  feeding  than  in  anything  else,  there  are  cer- 
tainly some  traits  in  their  character  which  are  redeeming 
features.  Low  as  they  are  in  the  scale  of  piscine  existences, 
occupying  the  very  lowest  family  of  the  Anguillidine  Apodes, 
they  are  none  the  less  susceptible  to  the  human  influence  of 
kindness.  They  grow  accustomed  to  man  when  good  is  at 
the  basis  of  his  actions,  and  have  been  known  to  accept  food 
from  his  hand.  They  remember  the  face  of  a  friend,  and 
when  it  is  presented  at  the  door  of  glass,  so  to  speak,  that 
opens  the  way  to  their  home,  they  come  without  fear  or  sus- 
picion showing  itself  in  their  movements.  Even  the  sound 
of  the  voice  of  a  benefactor  awakens  a  sympathetic  response 
in  their  bosoms. 


T)£LONGING  to  the  lower  vertebrates  is  a  family  of 
•D  animals  called  scientifically  Ranidae,  but  which  are, 
popularly  speaking,  best  known  as  frogs.  They  are  queer- 
looking  creatures,  scarcely  met  with  in  Australia  and  South 
America,  but  reaching  their  highest  state  in  the  East  Indies. 
They  are  capable  of  enduring  great  changes  of  heat  and 
cold,  and  can  live  on  land  as  well  as  in  water,  provided  they 
have  the  amount  of  moisture  necessary  to  preserve  the 
suppleness  of  their  skins.  Salt  water  is  fatal  to  the  frog  in 
any  stage  of  its  existence. 

Rana  clamata,  the  lusty  croaker  of  the  summer  pond,  is 
our  most  familiar  species.  He  may  be  recognized  by  the 
colors  of  his  dress,  in  which  green,  bronze,  gold  and  silyer 
play  important  parts,  and  by  the  ear-splitting  character  of 
his  vocal  intonations.  The  glandular  ridges  down  the  skin 
of  his  back,  together  with  his  strange  coloration,  singularly 
fit  him  for  his  home.  Imitations  of  the  stems  of  plants  are 
seen  in  the  darker  ridges,  and  their  leafage  in  the  green 
color  of  his  coat.  The  silver  of  his  vest  has  the  glimmer  of 
the  water  in  which  he  bathes,  and  the  moist  earth  seems  to 
have  left  its  stain  upon  his  brownish  feet  and  markings, 
while  the  yellow  of  the  several  badges  that  adorn  his  person 
in  being  like  the  stamens  and  pistils  of  the  surrounding 
flowers,  and  of  the  hue  of  many  buds  and  blossoms,  adds 
largely  to  his  protective  display.  Thus  is  the  frog  in  his 
natural  haunts  protected  by  his  garments,  and,  unless  he 
stirs  or  is  betrayed  by  his  full,  bright  eyes  or  the  palpitation 
of  his  breast,  he  is  not  likely  to  be  observed. 


Rana  and  Bufo.  175 

Four  fingers  or  toes  are  found  upon  the  anterior  extremi- 
ties, while  those  of  the  posterior  are  five  in  number  and 
webbed.  The  front  legs  are  much  shorter,  smaller  and 
weaker  than  the  hind  ones,  which  are  largely  developed, 
and  thus  serviceable  in  swimming  and  leaping. 

Though  the  frog  is  possessed  of  a  back-bone,  yet  he  has 
no  ribs.  Being  ribless,  he  cannot  expand  and  contract  his 
chest  in  breathing,  but  must  swallow  what  air  he  requires. 
In  swallowing  the  air  he  must  close  the  mouth  and  take  the 
air  in  only  by  the  nostrils ;  therefore,  oddly  enough,  if  his 
mouth  is  forcibly  kept  open,  he  will  smother.  The  frog's 
breathing,  a  fact  not  generally  known,  is  partly  through  his 
skin,  which  gives  off  carbonic  acid  gas;  and  moisture,  there- 
fore, is  just  as  essential  to  his  skin  as  it  is  to  the  gills  of  a 
fish.  Damp,  rainy  weather  is  his  extreme  delight.  When 
the  rain  falls,  out  come  the  frogs.  Their  skin  absorbs  moist- 
ure, which  is  stored  up  in  internal  reservoirs,  and  some  of 
this  water,  when  these  timid  creatures  are  alarmed  by  being 
suddenly  seized,  is  ejected,  but  I  do  not  think  that  it  is 
purposely  so  done,  as  the  water  is  not,  as  some  people  have 
fancied,  of  a  poisonous  nature.  Frogs  have  no  poison-sacs, 
and  in  truth  no  weapons  of  any  kind. 

Open  a  frog's  mouth,  and  you  will  find  but  a  few  tiny 
teeth  in  the  upper  jaw  and  palate,  which  are  useful  for  the 
partial  grinding  up  of  horny  insects.  His  tongue  you  will 
discover  to  be  a  very  odd  affair,  which  is  fastened  at  the  front 
end  of  the  mouth,  the  hinder  part  being  free  and  hanging 
down  the  creature's  throat.  This  organ  is  covered  with  a 
glue-like  secretion.  When  an  insect  is  to  be  captured,  it  is 
snapped  forward  from  the  mouth,  and,  striking  the  insect, 
which  it  seldom  fails  to  do,  causes  it  to  adhere  as  to  bird- 
lime. 

A  few  thoughts  now  about  the  life-history  of  the  frog. 
From  egg  to  egg  is  the  story.  In  roundish  masses,  upon 
sticks  lying  in  water,  or  upon  the  leaves  and  stems  of  sub- 
merged water-plants,  are  the  eggs  deposited.  The  creature 


176  Life  and  Immortality. 

that  comes  from  the  egg  is  no  more  like  a  frog  than  a  cater- 
pillar is  like  L  butterfly.  It  has  a  large  head,  small  tail, 
branched  gills,  and  is  devoid  of  limbs,  resembling,  in  this 
stage,  more  a  fish  than  a  frog.  This  is  its  early  childhood, 
or  tadpole  state.  It  can  only  live  in  water  now,  and  swims 
and  feeds  from  the  very  moment  it  leaves  the  egg.  Change 
in  form  almost  immediately  begins,  the  branched  gills  being 
drawn  within  the  neck  and  hidden,  a  pair  of  fore-legs  begin- 
ning to  bud,  and  subsequently  a  pair  of  hind- legs,  which 
push  out  much  faster  than  the  fore-legs.  As  the  legs  grow, 
the  tail  is  gradually  absorbed  and  disappears.  The  interior 
of  the  body  meanwhile  changes,  the  lungs  and  heart  becom- 
ing reptilian.  When  the  gills  and  tail  are  gone,  and  the  legs 
are  fully  formed,  the  once-swimming  tadpole  hops  out  of  the 
water  a  perfectly-formed  frog. 

When  first  the  tadpole  emerged  from  the  egg,  it  ate  the 
jelly-like  cover.  Then  soft  animal  and  vegetable  matters, 
with  the  strengthening  of  its  pair  of  horny  jaws,  began  to  be 
devoured.  Insects  later  on,  and  even  its  own  kith  and  kin, 
became  its  food.  The  fare  of  the  adult  frog  is  almost  exclu- 
sively insect  in  character,  although  necessity  sometimes 
drives  him  to  make  a  meal  out  of  some  of  his  weaker 
brethren. 

Seated  in  cool,  leafy  shadows,  not  far  from  his  favorite 
stream  or  pool,  the  frog  watches  with  his  great,  black,  gold- 
ringed  eyes  for  such  insects  as  good  fortune  shall  bring  to 
his  retreat.  As  one  hovers  near,  out  flies  his  limber,  sticky, 
ribbon-like  tongue,  true  to  its  mark,  and  the  hapless  insect, 
adhering  to  the  viscid  projected  ribbon,  is  gently  and  cleverly 
deposited  in  the  open  throat,  the  frog  maintaining  all  the 
while  an  air  of  calm,  superior  self-satisfaction,  as  if  he  had 
not  so  much  satisfied  an  appetite  as  fulfilled  the  mission  of 
ridding  nature  of  a  superfluous  insect. 

A  most  harmless,  timid  and  interesting  animal  is  the  frog, 
and  often  most  unfortunate.  He  is  the  legitimate  mark  for  all 
the  missiles  that  can  be  thrown  at  him  by  urchins  wandering 


Rana  and  Bufo.  177 

about  his  native  pool.  Snakes  make  him  their  prey,  and  he  is 
always  in  mental  fear  lest  some  insidious  serpent  shall  take 
him  unawares,  or  his  musings  shall  be  suddenly  cut  short  by 
the  stately  progress  of  some  swan  or  goose,  sailing  over  the 
limpid  water,  or  searching  the  green  herbage  wherein  he  sits 
concealed. 

That  he  is  susceptible  of  being  trained,  there  can  be  no 
question.  Man  is  not  always  viewed  by  him  as  an  inveterate 
enemy,  nor  does  he  always  dive  headlong  into  the  pool  when 
his  presence  is  near.  He  has  been  known  to  cultivate  man's 


, 


RANA  CLAMATA,  OR  GREEN  FROG. 
Lusty  Croaker  of  the  Summer  Pond. 


acquaintance,  and  to  live  on  friendly  terms  with  him.  Some 
three  years  ago  a  tiny  frog  was  taken  from  a  swamp  by  a 
friend  and  placed  in  a  small  stream  of  spring  water  that 
passed  close  to  the  house  where  the  writer  was  summering. 
A  dozen  times  a  day  the  little  frog  was  dipped  up  by  the  hand 
from  the  bottom  of  the  stream,  and  forced  to  endure  down 
the  head  and  back  the  tenderest  caresses.  A  few  insects 
were  then  offered  as  food  in  conciliation  for  the  liberty 


1 78  Life  and  Immortality. 

taken,  which  the  little  frog  was  only  induced  to  accept  after 
a  great  deal  of  persuasion,  when  he  was  carefully  put  back 
into  his  watery  bath.  In  the  space  of  a  week,  the  frog  had 
become  so  attached  to  his  friend,  that  he  would  leap  into  his 
outstretched  hand  and  take  his  food  without  the  least  dis- 
trust or  fear.  Even  the  voice  of  the  master  was  recognized 
by  the  frog,  and,  when  heard  in  the  distance,  was  the  signal 
for  the  strangest  behavior.  Froggie  would  leap  out  of  the 
water  upon  a  bare  stretch  of  earth,  peer  off  in  the  direction 
whence  the  sound  came,  and  there  await  his  master's  arrival 
with  restless  anxiety.  The  strongest  bond  of  friendship 
seemed  to  unite  the  two.  Not  only  was  the  frog  able  to 
recognize  the  voice  of  his  friend,  but  he  knew  him  in  person 
as  well.  Repeated  efforts  were  made  by  the  writer  to  gain 
the  attention  and  good-will  of  the  frog,  but  all  his  advances 
were  received  with  the  utmost  indifference. 

While  the  species  which  I  have  just  described  represents 
the  aquatic  Ranidae,  the  Wood-frog,  its  near  kin,  represents 
a  branch  of  the  family  which  prefers  dry  situations,  except 
in  breeding  times,  when  the  eggs  must  be  deposited  in  water. 
The  Wood-frog  is  somewhat  smaller  than  the  Bull-frog,  and 
is  clad  in  olive-green  and  brown  colors,  which  are  in  perfect 
keeping  with  the  coloration  of  dead  leaves  and  dry  twigs. 
There  is  a  large  black  patch  on  the  side  of  the  head  around 
the  big  ear-drum,  which  seems  still  further  to  distinguish 
him  from  his  cousin.  He  is  a  very  shy  and  suspicious 
creature,  and  makes  a  prodigious  jump  at  the  first  intima- 
tion of  danger,  his  leaps  being  so  enormous  that  it  is  very 
difficult  to  capture  him.  When  upon  the  ground,  he  can 
hardly  be  discerned  from  the  dry  vegetation  around.  By 
hiding  in  damp  moss  or  in  decayed  logs,  and  in  little  hol- 
lows in  the  ground,  he  is  enabled  to  maintain  the  moisture 
of  his  skin.  He  avoids  the  sunshine,  and  keeps  close  to 
the  earth. 

Another  curious  Rana  is  the  Tree-frog.  He  is  smaller 
than  any  of  his  cousins,  and  may  be  known  by  his  bright 


Rana  and  Bufo.  1 79 

green  dress,  which  is  spotted  with  black,  and  by  a  membrane 
stretched  between  his  toes,  which  gives  him  a  broad,  flat  sur- 
face, while  it  helps  to  sustain  him  as  he  leaps,  somewhat  after 
the  fashion  of  a  flying  squirrel,  from  branch  to  branch.  In 
tropical  regions,  where  many  of  the  trees  are  bedecked 
with  gorgeous  blossoms,  Tree-frogs  appear  in  the  gayest  of 
colors,  the  splendor  of  their  garb  being  protective  in  such 
surroundings. 

Dressed  in  black  and  light  brown,  and  living  in  marshes 
in  the  Eastern  United  States,  is  another  species — the  Swamp- 
frog.  His  voice  is  a  prolonged  croak,  which,  to  the  prac- 
tised ear,  can  be  readily  distinguished  from  the  bawl  of 
Clamata,  or  the  roar  of  the  Bull-frog. 

Cats,  geese,  hawks,  vultures,  owls  and  other  animals  eat 
frogs,  and  the  luckless  creatures  can  scarcely  appear  without 
finding  an  enemy.  But  nature,  who  is  a  very  wise  and  con- 
siderate mother,  provides  a  means  for  balancing  this  great 
destruction  of  their  forces  in  endowing  them  with  wonderful 
reproductive  organs.  So  prolific  are  frogs,  that  when  the 
little  black  tadpoles  appear,  so  thickly  are  they  huddled 
together  that  the  pond  seems  literally  alive  with  their  swim- 
ming forms. 

In  the  same  class  of  animals  to  which  the  frogs  belong,  as 
well  as  to  the  same  order,  but  to  a  different  sub-order,  are 
placed  the  toads,  somewhat  remote  cousins  of  the  frogs. 
As  the  frog  is  well-known  about  our  ponds,  so  the  toad  is  a 
constant  denizen  of  our  groves  and  gardens.  The  frog,  you 
have  been  told,  is  a  species  of  Rana,  and  now  I  shall  intro- 
duce to  you  the  toad  as  a  species  of  Bufo.  In  general 
anatomy  they  are  alike.  Their  eggs  and  young  are  closely 
similar,  and  the  stages  of  growth  from  egg  to  adult  form  are 
nearly  identical.  When  the  adult  stage  is  attained  the  frogs 
and  toads  are  very  tiny  creatures,  but,  small  as  they  are, 
they  are  readily  distinguishable  from  each  other  by  the 
conformation  of  the  snout,  and  by  the  larger  development 
of  the  hind-legs  of  the  frog.  Their  chief  differences  will  now 


1 80  Life  and  Immortality. 

be  enumerated.  The  toad  has  no  teeth,  but  the  frog,  as 
has  been  stated  before,  has  teeth  in  both  the  upper  jaw  and 
the  palate.  Similarly  attached  is  the  tongue,  but  the  free 
end  of  the  frog's  tongue  is  forked,  and  the  toad's  entire. 
The  skin  of  the  toad  is  usually  warty,  while  the  frog's  is 
smooth.  A  rounder  body,  shorter  hind-legs,  less  fully 
webbed  feet  and  more  rounded  snout  still  further  distin- 
gu^sh  the  toad  from  the  frog.  Their  soft  moist  skin  shows 
them  to  be  Amphibians.  The  absence  of  tails  places  them 
among  the  Anuran,  or  Tailless  Amphibians.  Thus  far  they 
agree  well  together,  but  differences  loom  up  upon  careful 
examination,  and  we  are  compelled  to  say  of  the  frog  that 
he  belongs  to  the  Ranidae,  and  of  the  toad  that  he  belongs 
to  the  Bufonidae.  Of  the  two  animals,  the  toad  is  by  far  the 
more  interesting  and  useful. 

The  toad  is  almost  unrestricted  in  his  territorial  range. 
He  hops  through  the  tropics  and  the  temperate  zones,  and 
well  up  into  the  polar  regions.  Everywhere  he  is  the  same 
inoffensive,  gentle,  humble,  useful  and  generally  silent  creat- 
ure. But  like  his  human  brother  he  has  his  faults.  He  has 
a  great  fondness  for  bees.  Happy  is  he  when,  brigand-like, 
he  can  stand  by  the  highway  of  the  bees  and  capture  them 
as  they  return  to  their  waxen  city.  Their  wealth  of  honey 
he  does  not  demand  as  a  ransom,  but  swallows  the  little 
creatures  themselves,  alive  and  whole,  and  digests  them  at 
leisure.  Bee-eating  seems  his  only  fault.  Not  only  the 
hive-bee,  but  other  insects  as  well,  share  his  attention. 
Millions  of  noxious  beetles  and  bugs  are  devoured,  and  the 
world  is  the  richer  by  thousands  of  bushels  of  fruit  and  vege- 
tables. The  good  he  accomplishes  largely  outweighs  the 
mischief  he  commits.  So  ceaselessly  and  swiftly  he  swal- 
lows his  game,  that  a  grasshopper's  legs  or  a  sphinx's 
antennae  may  often  be  seen  sticking  out  of  his  mouth,  while 
the  carcass  itself  is  well  down  in  his  throat.  French  garden- 
ers so  appreciate  his  utility  that  he  is  brought  to  market  and 
sold  for  a  pittance  to  such  as  may  need  his  services. 


Rana  and  Bufo. 


181 


COMMON  AMERICAN  TOAD. 
How  He  Manages  a  Difficulty. 


Toads  can  be  tamed  and  taught  to  eat  from  the  hand. 
They  are  easily  beguiled  with  sugar  and  with  bread  that 
has  been  soaked  in  milk,  but,  like  a  captious  child,  they  eat 
only  the  middle  out  of  the  slice,  and  leave  the  crust.  We  once 
saw  a  toad,  a  noble  fellow  he  was,  who,  at  a  certain  hour  of 
the  closing  day,  would  come  from  his  gloomy  retreat  to 
receive  at  the  hands  of  man  his  supper  of  flies,  which  he 
had  been  trained  to  catch  on  the  throw.  So  unerringly 
would  his  tongue  dart  out  at  the  opportune  moment,  that  he 
seldom,  if  ever,  shot  wide  of  his  mark.  It  is  amusing  to 
observe  him  when,  in  his  greed  and  haste,  he  has  attempted 
to  swallow  a  huge  grasshopper  whose  legs  will  not  accom- 
modate themselves  to  his  peculiar  gape  of  mouth.  How  he 
swallows  and  twists  and  contracts  the  walls  of  his  throat, 
but  the  legs  seem  unmanageable.  He  does  not  give  up,  or 
endeavor  to  eject  the  half-swallowed  body,  but  ponders  the 
matter  over  and  over.  A  look  of  delight  beams  out  of  his 
eyes,  that  shows  he  has  managed  the  problem.  Up  goes  to 
the  mouth  the  right  fore-leg,  and,  in  less  time  than  it  takes 


1 82  Life  and  Immortality 

to  chronicle  the  event,  the  obstreperous  insect  is  pushed  into 
the  stomach. 

Some  curious  myths  are  told  of  the  toad.  One  says  he 
can  live  for  hundreds  of  years  encased  in  clay  or  in  stone. 
No  more  true  of  Bufo  is  this  than  of  Rana,  his  cousin. 
Another  asserts  that  his  skin,  when  handled,  is  productive 
of  warts,  and  that  the  fluid  he  emits,  which  serves  buc  to 
moisten  his  body,  for  without  moisture  he  could  certainly 
not  live,  and  to  protect  him  from  enemies,  is  poisonous  in 
character.  His  power  to  produce  warts,  we  cannot  admit. 
But  that  the  fluid  he  exudes,  if  not  poisonous  to  touch,  is 
offensive  to  animals,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  We  are  led  to  this 
conclusion  from  the  following  considerations  :  Dogs,  young 
animals  especially,  are  prone  to  attack  the  toad,  but  they 
never  want  to  repeat  their  experience.  The  toad's  exuda- 
tion so  affects  the  salivary  glands  of  the  dog  as  to  cause  him 
to  froth  and  foam  like  an  animal  with  rabies.  A  case  is 
recalled  where  a  dog,  that  had  taken  a  toad  in  his  mouth, 
became  almost  frantic.  This  dog  never  afterwards  was  well. 
His  whole  system  apparently  had  become  diseased,  and,  in 
less  than  a  year,  he  had  wasted  to  a  complete  skeleton,  when 
death  relieved  him  of  his  sufferings.  Another  allegation, 
that  the  toad  has  a  jewel  in  his  head,  has  been  believed  from 
very  ancient  times.  The  story  doubtlessly  originated  from 
the  beauty  of  the  toad's  eyes,  the  irides  being  a  rich  flame- 
color,  which,  in  the  dusk  of  the  even,  shine  like  burnished 
gems. 

When  hatched  the  young  of  the  toad  are  of  a  jet  black 
color,  and  are  very  active.  Their  changes  are  made  very 
early  and  in  the  same  manner  as  those  of  the  frog.  They  are 
quite  small  when  arrived  at  the  perfect  toad  state.  Their 
legs  produced  and  their  tails  absorbed,  they  quit  the  water 
and  set  out  on  long  journeys.  Unlike  the  frog,  which  is  a 
home-stayer,  the  toad  is  a  born  vagrant.  They  travel  chiefly 
by  night,  hiding  under  stones  and  herbage  during  the  day. 
If  clouds  cover  the  sky,  they  take  heart  and  joyously  hop 


Rana  and  Bufo.  183 

forth  upon  their  pilgrimage.  During  a  long  drouth  they 
mysteriously  disappear,  but  if  a  rain  comes  on  they  suddenly 
come  out  by  hundreds,  and  this  has  given  rise  to  the  tale  of 
a  "  shower  of  toads." 

Worms,  as  well  as  flies,  etc.,  constitute  a  toad's  bill  of  fare. 
After  a  rain  toads  and  worms,  it  would  seem,  are  mutually 
inspired  to  take  their  walks  abroad,  and  many  an  unfortu- 
nate worm  makes  its  way  into  the  toad's  maw.  Dead  insects 
are  at  a  discount  with  him,  and  he  views  with  suspicion  any- 
thing that  shows  not  the  active  wriggling  principle  of  life. 
When  winter  comes  on  the  toad,  like  the  frog,  goes  into 
winter-quarters.  Since  the  young  toad  reaches  its  adult 
size  in  the  autumn,  it  is  forced  to  pass  the  first  period  of  its 
grown-up  life  in  a  sleep,  or  coma,  in  some  hole  or  burrow 
which  it  has  found  or  fashioned  in  the  earth.  Sometimes 
toads  creep  into  rock-crevices,  or  into  hollows  in  logs  and 
trees,  and  being  found  in  these  places  in  the  early  spring  are 
hastily  supposed  to  have  been  prisoners  for  many  years. 

In  the  process  of  growth  the  skin  of  the  toad,  as  well  as 
that  of  the  frog,  becomes  too  small,  and  hence  is  cast  off. 
As  the  shedding-time  approaches,  the  white,  green  and 
brown  colors  become  dull,  and  a  peculiar  dryness  appears. 
A  new  skin  is  now  forming  under  the  outgrown  one,  and 
presently  the  latter  splits  half  down  the  middle  of  the  back 
and  along  the  under  part  of  the  body.  By  a  series  of  vio- 
lent twitchings  of  the  toad  the  old  skin  is  made  to  wrinkle 
and  fold  along  the  sides.  A  hind-leg  is  now  tucked  under  a 
fore-arm,  and  by  a  good  pull  the  animal  is  soon  out  of  that 
leg  of  his  trousers.  The  other  leg  is  removed  in  similar 
fashion.  Putting  one  hand  in  his  mouth  and  giving  a  jerk, 
off  comes  the  covering  of  that  hand  and  arm,  like  a  discarded 
glove.  He  has  now  but  to  take  off  the  other,  and  he  is  free. 
Relieved  of  his  dress  he  neither  sells  nor  gives  it  away,  but 
rolls  it  up  into  a  neat  solid  ball  and  swallows  it.  The  frog 
strips  off  and  disposes  of  his  outgrown  skin  in  a  similar 
way. 


1 84  Life  and  Immortality. 

Strange  to  say,  toads  and  frogs  can  change  to  some  extent 
the  color  of  their  skin  to  suit  their  homes.  Kept  in  the 
dark  with  dark  surroundings,  toads  become  darker  in  color, 
while  those  that  are  kept  in  light  with  white  accessories 
become  lighter.  The  color  of  the  toad  changes  more  slowly 
than  that  of  the  frog.  It  is  not  the  arrangement  of  the  color 
that  alters,  but  merely  a  change  from  light  to  dark. 

What  has  been  said  applies  to  our  Common  American 
Toad,  the  Bufo  Americana  of  the  books.  Let  us  now  look 
at  some  curious  specimens  of  the  Bufonidae.  The  Pipa,  or 
Surinam  Toad,  does  not  lay  her  eggs  in  water,  but  places 
them  on  her  back.  A  fold  of  skin  rises  up  and  encloses 
each  egg  in  a  separate  cell,  until  the  young  have  not  only 
been  hatched,  but  have  also  passed  through  all  their  meta- 
morphoses, and  come  out  fully  formed.  Another  toad, 
abundant  in  Europe  and  Asia,  is  largely  colored  with  bright 
crimson,  and  the  father-toad  carries  the  little  ones  in  sep- 
arate cells  fastened  to  his  hind-legs  like  chains.  The  young 
change  to  their  perfect  shape  in  these  cells,  and  with  the 
withering  away  of  the  cells  the  young  toads  hop  out,  able  to 
take  care  of  themselves. 

Somewhere  I  have  said  that  toads  are  generally  silent. 
A  little  toad  about  three  inches  long,  called  a  Natter-jack, 
is  common  in  England,  and  is  a  noted  singer.  His  "gluck- 
gluck,  gluck-k-k,"  can  be  heard  any  night.  The  Green 
Toad,  well  known  on  the  Continent,  is  not  so  noisy  as  the 
Natter-jack,  but  has  a  low,  moaning  cry. 

All  the  Tree-toads,  or  Hylidae,  have  clear,  shrill  voices, 
and  are  fond  of  singing  serenades.  In  the  spring  the  Com- 
mon Toad  takes  to  the  water  and  there  sings  very  loudly. 
The  loud  continuous  trill  that  we  hear  in  swamps  in  spring- 
time -is  made  by  toads,  and  not  by  frogs,  as  is  generally 
believed.  Another  toad  with  a  voice  is  the  Spade-foot.  This 
Toad  is  rare,  though  widely  distributed.  It  is  remarkable 
for  its  feet,  formed  for  digging,  its  subterranean  habits,  and 
its  queer  way  of  appearing  and  disappearing  very  suddenly. 


Rana  and  Bufo.  185 

After  a  rainy  season  the  Spade-foot  will  emerge  from  its 
hiding-place,  attract  attention  by  its  loud  cries,  swarm  by 
hundreds  about  the  ponds,  lay  innumerable  eggs,  and  vanish. 
But  while  thousands  of  eggs  are  laid,  scarcely  any  hatch,  for 
most  of  them  perish  from  being  laid  so  near  to  the  water's 
edge  as  to  become  dried  up  on  the  subsidence  of  the  water. 

Thus  we  find  that  toads  have  three  different  methods  of 
life.  Some  live  on  trees,  but  seldom  appear  upon  the  ground. 
Others  are  underground  dwellers,  and  hardly  ever  come  to 
the  surface.  But  the  Common  Toad,  and  his  numerous  kin, 
are  dwellers  in  the  ground,  hiding  among  grass  and  other 
herbage  when  asleep,  or  when  the  sun  is  too  intense  for  their 
comfort.  But  all  toads,  excepting  the  two  varieties  men- 
tioned above,  which  carry  their  young  on  their  bodies,  repair 
to  the  water  to  drop  their  eggs,  and  the  young  live  in  the 
water  until  they  have  attained  the  adult  state. 


EHEJVIIES. 


NO  animal,  perhaps,  is  so  little  known  and  understood 
as  the  snake.  This  is  not  because  its  study  has  been 
neglected  or  overlooked,  as  our  scientific  institutions  are 
replete  with  fine  collections  of  most  of  the  reptiles,  and 
exhaustive  works  upon  their  habits  and  customs.  Yet,  not- 
withstanding this,  the  snake  continues  to  be  the  subject  of 
ever-recurring  stories,  fabulous  in  the  extreme,  that  seem 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation.  Strange  to  say, 
many  of  these  stories  are  current  among  those  who,  from 
the  nature  of  their  lives,  would  be  expected  to  be  well  and 
accurately  informed  on  the  habits  of  the  animals.  Farmers 
and  horticulturists  are  plentiful  who  religiously  believe  that 
the  Milk  Snake,  the  beautiful  Ophibolus  clericus,  deprives 
milk-giving  animals  of  their  supply  of  milk.  A  statement 
often  seen,  and  that  has  many  believers,  is  that  the  Whip-snake 
of  the  South  seizes  its  tail — which  is  supposed  to  have  a 
sting — in  its  mouth,  and  rolls  away  in  the  form  of  a  wheel, 
stopping  suddenly  and  striking  the  enemy  with  the  sting. 
Such  fables  are  current  by  the  score,  and  denial  only 
strengthens  belief. 

More  than  a  hundred  species  of  snakes,  nearly  all  having 
a  wide  geographical  range,  are  found  in  America,  north  of 
Mexico.  They  constitute  the  first  order,  Ophidia,  of  reptiles, 
and  have  long,  cylindrical  bodies,  are  footless,  without  a 
shoulder-girdle,  and  invested  with  a  coat  of  scales,  which  is 
shed  in  the  summer  months.  Snakes  have  no  eyelids  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  term.  Their  eyes  are  permanently  covered 
by  a  delicate  membrane  that  takes  the  place  of  the  lid,  and 


Our  Natural  Enemies.  1 87 

this  explains  the  stony  stare,  so  disagreeable  to  many,  that 
all  snakes  have. 

The  skeleton  of  snakes  is  so  arranged  as  to  allow  the 
greatest  freedom  and  flexibility.  Numerous  pieces  of  bone, 
hollow  in  front  and  convex  behind,  make  up  the  long  taper- 
ing backbone,  which  literally  works  on  a  ball-and-socket 
plan.  Articular  facets,  that  lock  into  each  other,  are  found 
upon  the  processes  of  the  vertebrae,  and  these  strengthen 
and  give  to  the  backbone  a  greater  degree  of  flexibility.  A 
more  remarkable  arrangement,  however,  is  found  in  the 
head,  which  enables  the  snake  to  prey  upon  animals  that  are 
larger  than  itself.  The  jaws  seem  a  combination  of  elastic 
springs,  having  no  gauge  to  their  tension,  the  quadrate  bones 
connecting  the  lower  jaw  with  the  skull  being  movable, 
thus  allowing  that  enormous  gape  with  which  all  are  famil- 
iar who  have  seen  a  snake  swallow  its  prey.  Besides  this, 
the  bones  of  the  jaw  itself  and  palate  are  more  or  less  mova- 
ble, also  tending  to  the  larger  distention  of  the  throat. 

As  snakes  do  not  tear  or  mutilate  their  prey,  their  teeth 
are  not  set  in  sockets,  but  serve  merely  to  poison  and  stu- 
pefy the  prey,  or  to  prevent  its  escape,  acting  as  hooks  by 
which  the  body  is  hauled  over  the  victim.  The  bones  of 
the  lower  jaw,  as  we  have  seen,  are  not  fastened  closely  to 
each  other ;  so  in  swallowing  prey  the  teeth  on  one  side  are 
advanced,  and  then  those  on  the  other  side,  and  so  on  until 
the  victim  is  hauled,  hand  over  hand,  as  it  were,  into  the 
snake's  throat. 

Poisonous  snakes,  such  as  the  rattlers,  have  two  long,  sharp 
fangs,  each  compressed  and  bent  up,  and  forming  a  hollow 
tube,  open  at  both  ends.  The  upper  portion  of  the  hollow 
fang  is  fastened  to  a  bone  in  the  cheek,  which  moves  with 
ease,  so  that,  when  not  in  use,  the  fangs  can  be  packed  away 
until  needed. 

All  animals,  man  included,  have  doubtless  in  their  saliva 
a  deadly  poison,  though  in  the  latter  it  is  extremely  diluted, 
and  essential  only  to  the  digestion  of  food.  In  poisonous 


1 88  Life  and  Immortality. 

snakes,  however,  it  is  stored  up  in  sacs,  modifications  of  the 
salivary  glands,  and  placed  in  each  side  of  the  upper  jaw. 
From  the  poison-gland  under  the  eye  forward  to  the  edge  of 
the  jaw,  a  delicate  canal,  which  opens  into  the  fang  above  the 
tube  of  the  tooth,  extends.  Alongside  of  the  latter  may  be 
seen  rudimentary  fangs,  all  ready  to  grow  out  should  the 
large  one  be  lost.  To  use  the  poison,  the  snake  has  merely 
to  strike  its  prey,  when  the  muscles  of  the  jaw,  which  are 
admirably  fitted  for  the  part  they  have  to  play  in  the  tragedy, 
press  upon  the  glands,  squeeze  the  poison  through  the  little 
canal  down  through  the  hollow  fang,  and  the  work  is  ac- 
complished. 

In  their  actions,  snakes  are  most  graceful.  The  gliding 
motion,  so  characteristic,  is  effected  by  the  movements  of 
the  large  central  scales,  that  are  successively  pushed  for- 
ward, the  hinder  edges  resting  on  the  ground  and  consti- 
tuting a  support.  These  scales,  or  pushers,  are  fastened  to 
the  ribs  by  muscles,  and  by  holding  a  snake  by  the  hand  the 
swelling  movement  can  readily  be  felt. 

Snakes  vary  much  in  color.  They  are  generally  adapted 
to  their  surroundings.  Green  Snakes  are  found  in  green 
grass  and  vegetation,  while  grey  snakes  affect  rocky  dis- 
tricts, where  they  are  alike  protected.  Their  skin  is  shed  in 
one  piece  at  various  seasons  of  the  year,  being  forced  off  by 
the  snake  forming  a  ring  with  its  tail  and  squeezing  the  rest 
of  the  body  through  it,  or  by  wriggling  through  entangled 
bushes.  Poisonous  snakes  may  be  always  recognized  by 
their  broad,  flattened  heads,  generally  short  and  thick  bodies, 
and  the  almost  invariable  possession  of  a  vertical  keel  along 
the  centre  of  each  scale.  Long  bodies,  small  heads  devoid 
of  distinct  necks,  and  scales  not  keeled,  characterize  non- 
poisonous  species. 

Probably  the  best-known  of  our  common  kinds  of  poison- 
ous snakes  are  the  rattlesnakes.  They  belong  to  the  dan- 
gerous family  Crotalidae,  to  which  the  copperheads  and 
moccasins  also  belong,  and  are  distinguished  by  the  large, 


Natural  Enemies. 


189 


NORTHERN  RATTLESNAKE. 
Prepared  to  Attack  a  Song  Sparrow. 


ugly  head,  absence  of  teeth  in  the  upper  jaw  excepting  the 
fangs,  and  the  pit  in  the  head. 

Crotalus  horridus,  our  Northern  Rattlesnake,  has  doubtless 
the  widest  geographical  distribution,  being  found  in  nearly 
every  State  in  the  Union,  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  to  North- 
ern New  England,  and  thence  west  to  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
It  has  a  most  forbidding  appearance,  and  when  once  seen 
with  its  enormous  head,  triangular  in  shape,  and  large  bril- 
liant eyes,  with  fiery  irides,  it  can  never  be  mistaken.  Be- 
tween the  eye  and  the  nostril  is  a  deep  pit,  a  character  that 
is  peculiar  to  the  family. 

All  rattlers,  as  the  name  indicates,  have  a  horny  append- 
age to  the  tail,  formed  of  separate  button-like  objects,  that 
rattle  together  when  the  tail  is  vibrated.  This  rattle  not 
only  serves  to  warn  human  beings  of  danger,  but  also  to 
arouse  in  animals  a  curiosity  that  often  proves  fatal.  The 


190  Life  and  Immortality. 

popular  belief  that  a  rattle  is  added  every  year,  and  that  it 
is  possible  to  determine  the  age  of  the  animals  by  this 
means,  is  not  borne  out  by  facts.  Sometimes  two  rattles 
are  known  to  appear  within  a  year,  and  other  instances  are 
recorded  where  four  have  been  attained  in  that  period,  and 
others  still  when  several  have  been  lost,  new  ones  taking 
their  places.  The  number  of  rattles  is  also  uncertain.  The 
greatest  number,  as  observed  by  Dr.  Holbrook,  is  twenty- 
one,  but  a  specimen  is  mentioned  in  the  books  that  had 
forty-four. 

Mild  and  peaceful  in  disposition,  the  Rattlesnake  has  never 
been  known,  unless  provoked,  to  attack  a  human  being,  nor 
to  follow  him  with  hostile  intention.  He  preys  upon  small 
animals,  as  rats,  squirrels,  rabbits  and  birds,  and  can  always 
be  approached  when  he  is  stretched  out,  only  striking  when 
he  is  coiled.  He  is  not  a  climber,  seldom,  if  ever,  being 
found  in  trees.  His  alleged  powers  of  fascination  are  purely 
mythical.  The  horror  his  presence  inspires  often  paralyzes 
with  fear  his  victim,  who,  incapable  of  flight,  stupidly  awaits 
his  fate.  Men,  women  and  children  have  been  known,  when 
attacked  by  these  animals,  to  become  rooted  to  the  spot,  as 
it  were,  by  fear  and  surprise.  All  the  so-called  cases  of 
fascination  can  be  explained  by  the  fear  which  the  snake's 
unlooked-for  presence  inspires. 

Wonderful  curative  powers  are  imputed  to  the  oil  of  the 
Rattlesnake.  Many  snakes  are  killed  during  the  summer 
months  for  this  oil,  but  the  grand  gathering  of  the  crop  is 
in  the  fall,  when  they  have  repaired  to  their  dens  and  winter- 
ing places.  Sunny  days  in  October  and  November  are 
chosen  by  snake-hunters  for  raiding  them.  The  snakes,  dull 
and  sluggish  at  that  time  of  the  year,  crawl  out  of  their 
dens  upon  the  rocks,  huddling  together  by  the  score  for  the 
purpose  of  basking  in  the  sun.  Armed  with  old-fashioned 
flails  the  hunters,  when  they  come  upon  a  group  of  snakes, 
proceed  at  once  to  thresh  them,  but  few  making  good  their 
escape.  .  The  Rattlesnakes,  assorted  from  other  species  that 


Our  Natural  Enemies.  191 

are  frequently  massed  together  with  them,  are  carried  home, 
when  the  oil  is  simply  tried  out,  bottled  up  and  is  then 
ready  for  the  market  and  the  credulous  patient. 

No  subject  connected  with  snakes,  it  would  seem,  has 
attracted  so  much  attention  as  the  vexed  one  as  to  the  care 
which  they  take  of  their  young.  Snakes  would  hardly  be 
expected  to  show  any  great  amount  of  maternal  affection, 
but  that  they  do,  and  in  a  most  remarkable  manner,  by 
taking  their  young  into  their  mouths,  if  alarmed,  is  a  well- 
established  fact.  The  mother,  when  danger  is  imminent, 
sounds  her  rattle  as  a  signal,  opens  her  very  large  mouth, 
and  receives  in  it  her  little  family. 

The  bite  of  nearly  all  rattlesnakes  is  extremely  dangerous, 
though  not  necessarily  fatal  in  the  smaller  kinds.  Almost 
all  animals  succumb  to  their  bite,  and  even  man  himself,  if 
the  proper  remedy  is  not  at  hand.  There  is  a  general  belief 
that  the  hog  is  exempt,  and  acting  upon  this  belief  farmers 
have  been  known,  where  these  reptiles  are  very  abundant, 
to  turn  in  a  few  hogs  upon  them  for  their  destruction.  This 
animal,  though  it  has  a  fondness  for  the  reptile,  and  exercises 
a  great  deal  of  caution  in  its  attack,  has  not  infrequently 
been  killed  by  the  reptile's  poisonous  fangs.  Large  doses 
of  whiskey  have  been  successful  in  neutralizing  the  effects  of 
the  poison,  but  it  has  been  practically  and  experimentally 
proved  that  permanganate  of  potash  is  the  best  antidote. 

But  of  all  the  poisonous  snakes  of  this  country,  the  Cop- 
perhead, Ancistrodon  contortrix,  is  the  most  dreaded.  In  the 
South,  he  is  known  as  the  Cotton-mouth,  Moccasin  and 
Red-eye,  and  is  just  as  common  in  the  Gulf  States  as  in 
the  Atlantic  and  Middle  States.  He  attains  a  length  of 
two  feet,  is  of  a  hazel  hue,  the  head  having  a  bright  cop- 
pery lustre,  and  loves  to  conceal  himself  in  shady  spots  in 
meadows  of  high  grass,  where  he  feeds  upon  small  animals, 
rarely,  if  ever,  attacking  large  ones  unless  trodden  on.  The 
mother  Copperhead  has  also  been  observed  to  shelter  her 
young  in  her  mouth  when  threatened  by  danger. 


I92 


Life  and  Immortality. 


Ancistrodon  piscivorus,  the  Water  Moccasin,  that  commands 
so  much  respeqt  from  the  negroes  of  the  South,  is,  from  the 
pugnacity  of  his  nature,  equally  to  be  feared.  While  the 
'Rattlesnake  will  slink  away  from  danger,  the  Moccasin  will 
attack  man  or  brute  with  savage  ferocity.  He  is  essentially 
a  water-snake,  chasing  fishes  and  small  reptiles  in  the  streams 
of  his  native  haunts,  and  may  be  recognized  by  the  dark- 
brojvn  colors  on  the  upper  portion  of  the  head  and  the  yel- 
lowish line  that  passes  from  the  snout  to  or  over  the  nostril. 


MOTHER  BLACK  SNAKE. 
Her  Affection  for  Newly-Hatched  Young. 


His  length  rarely  exceeds  twenty  inches,  and  he  is  stout  in 
proportion.  The  Moccasins  show  the  same  curious  care  for 
their  young  already  mentioned.  A  low,  blowing  noise 
apprises  them  of  danger,  and  into  the  slightly-opened  mouth 
of  the  mother,  which  is  held  close  to  the  ground,  they  hur- 
riedly disappear. 

One  of  the  commonest  of  the  non-poisonous  snakes  is  the 
Striped  Garter  Snake,  ten  species  of  which  being  known  in 
the  United  States.  Upon  the  earliest  appearance  of  spring 


Our  Natural  Enemies.  193 

they  are  almost  the  first  to  roll  out  of  their  holes,  where 
they  have  lain  dormant  in  balls  or  clusters  during  the  cold 
winter  months.  Though  easily  excited,  and  striking  quickly, 
yet  their  bite  is  little  more  than  a  scratch.  Their  appetites 
are  now  quite  vigorous,  and  they  have  been  seen  to  chase  a 
toad  for  more  than  fifty  feet  over  a  gravelly  road,  effecting  its 
capture.  They  are  remarkably  prolific,  and  their  numbers 
about  pools  are  sometimes  astonishing.  It  would  seem  that 
they  are  viviparous  as  well  as  oviparous,  from  the  fact 
that  some  young  ones  have  been  free  and  others  in  sacs  in 
the  abdomen  of  the  mother.  With  a  brood  of  forty  or  fifty 
young,  which  a  single  female  has  been  known  to  produce,  it 
would  seem  that  the  Striped  Snake  would  have  a  difficult 
time  in  protecting  her  offspring  by  taking  them  into  her 
mouth.  They  have  this  habit,  however,  as  abundance  of 
evidence  could  be  adduced  to  show.  One  witness  observed 
a  Striped  Snake  upon  a  hillside,  and  noticed  something  mov- 
ing about  her  head,  which  proved  to  be  young  snakes.  He 
counted  twenty  little  ones  from  one  and  a  half  to  two  inches 
long.  Led  by  curiosity,  he  made  a  move  towards  the  spot, 
when  the  old  one  opened  her  mouth,  and  they  went  in  out  of 
sight.  He  then  stepped  back  and  waited,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes they  began  to  come  out.  Another  witness  came  across 
a  female  with  some  young  ones  near  her,  who,  perceiving 
him,  uttered  a  loud  hiss,  and  the  young  ones  jumped  down 
her  throat,  when  she  instantly  glided  away  to  a  place  of  con- 
cealment beneath  a  huge  heap  of  stones. 

The  Black  Snake,  Bascanion  constrictor,  the  mortal  enemy 
of  the  Rattlesnake,  is  a  familiar  species,  and  one  that  is  widely 
distributed.  As  winter  approaches,  these  snakes  come  from  far 
and  near  to  some  apparently  appointed  place  of  rendezvous, 
where,  rolling  themselves  up  into  a  matted  ball,  they  sleep 
the  days  and  nights  of  winter  away,  and  come  out  in  the 
spring-time,  when  the  common  mother  of  us  all  has  con- 
ditioned things  to  their  habits  and  ways  of  life.  In  appear- 
ance, from  a  decorative  point  of  view,  they  are  very  attractive, 


194  Life  and  Immortality. 

being  of  a  uniform  steel-blue  color,  with  a  rich  tessellated 
arrangement  of  scales.  They  are  of  wild  and  untamable 
natures,  powerful  and  active  as  foes,  often  engaging  in  en- 
counters with  other  snakes,  especially  the  Rattlesnakes,  whom 
they  kill  or  force  to  disgorge  their  prey.  In  their  move- 
ments they  are  so  rapid  that  they  are  often  called  the  Racer. 
It  is  in  the  breeding  season  that  they  manifest  their  greatest 
boldness,  and  have  often  been  known  to  go  out  of  their  way 
to  attack  a  passer-by.  They  will  chase  an  intruder  for  a  long 
distance,  and  will  even  descend  a  tree  to  attack  the  one  who 
is  teasing  them. 

It  is  the  Black  Snake  that  appears  the  most  frequently  in 
the  guise  of  a  charmer.  But,  as  has  been  remarked  before, 
this  power,  so  often  imputed,  is  merely  imaginary.  The 
reptile  preys  upon  birds  in  their  nests,  penetrating  the 
thickets  in  quest  of  them,  and  often  the  cat-bird  and  the  red- 
winged  blackbird,  which  are  so  prone  to  attack,  are  seen 
acting  strangely,  crying  and  fluttering  before  the  reptile  in 
fear  and  rage,  while  thus  charmed,  and  frequently  falling 
a  victim  in  their  endeavors  to  protect  their  young.  At  such 
times  the  cries  of  distress  of  the  old  birds  bring  birds  of 
different  genera  together,  who  join  their  forces  against  the 
common  enemy,  finally  compelling  him  to  retreat.  Like  other 
snakes  mentioned,  the  Black  Snake  has  the  same  remarkable 
habit  of  taking  her  young  into  her  mouth  for  protection. 

Among  the  most  attractive  forms  are  the  Green  Snakes. 
Leptophis  astivus,  so  common  in  the  South,  and  occasionally 
to  be  met  with  in  Southern  New  Jersey,  is  of  a  brilliant 
green  color,  and  so  perfectly  mimicking  a  vine  that  it  would 
rarely  be  taken  for  a  living  creature  when  lying  around  the 
branches  of  a  tree.  They  have  a  habit  of  coiling  in  the 
nests  of  birds,  often  surprising  the  egg-hunter  by  bounding 
swiftly  away.  Allied  species,  further  to  the  South,  have  been 
observed,  when  approached,  to  leap  twenty  feet  in  the  air, 
falling  to  the  ground  and  making  their  escape.  They  are 
perfectly  harmless  creatures,  and,  like  the  Green  Snake  of  the 


Our  Natural  Enemies. 


SUMMER  GREEN  SNAKE. 

Manner  of  Mimicking  a  Vine. 


North,  can  be  handled  with  not  the  slightest  risk  of  danger. 
We  once  knew  a  gentleman  who  had  one  in  confinement, 
whom  he  had  trained  to  eat  from  a  dish  and  to  come  to  his 
hand  at  the  sound  of  his  voice.  The  beautiful  creature, 
which  was  a  female,  showed  the  most  marked  affection,  and 
would  often  twine  her  little  form  about  his  neck  or  glide  her 
smooth  head,  lazily  as  it  seemed,  along  his  face  and  forehead. 
An  extremely  common  snake  in  the  Eastern  United  States 
is  the  Water  Snake.  Nerodia  sipedon  is  the  name  by  which 
it  is  known  to  the  naturalist.  There  is  in  Michigan  an 
allied  form,  known  as  the  Red-bellied  Water  Snake,  which  is 
quite  as  common,  while  several  other  species  abound  in 
other  localities.  They  are  all  inoffensive  creatures  and  prey 


196 


Life  and  Immortality. 


upon  small  animals.  The  female  shows  the  same  regard  for 
her  young  as  other  kinds,  suffering  them,  even  when  three 
or  four  inches  long,  to  take  shelter  in  her  throat,  when  she 
will  clumsily  turn  in  search  of  some  place  of  concealment. 

Water-snakes  generally  affect  water-courses,  often  hanging 
from  the  branches  of  trees  over  streams,  into  which  they 
drop  when  disturbed.  Dr.  Bell,  an  English  naturalist  of  dis- 
tinction, once  tamed  a  European  species  of  this  genus.  This 


WATER  SNAKE. 
Swallowing  Her  Young. 


pet  could  distinguish  him  among  a  crowd,  and  would  crawl 
to  him,  passing  into  his  sleeve,  where  it  would  curl  up  for  a 
nap.  Every  morning  found  it  at  the  doctor's  table  for  its 
share  of  milk.  For  strangers  it  had  an  aversion,  flying  and 
hissing  at  them  when  any  familiarities  were  attempted. 

Were  these  grovelling  creatures  better  known,  there  would 
be  found  much  in  them  to  admire  and  commend.  They  are 
not  the  hideous  beings  they  are  represented  to  be.  The 


Our  Natural  Enemies. 


19; 


feeling  of  hatred  against  them,  an  instinctive  and  unappeas- 
able enmity,  is  perfectly  natural,  and  has  grown  out  of  relig- 
ious superstitions.  Fear,  disgust  and  aversion  are  man's 
experiences  at  the  sight  of  a  snake,  and  there  is  at  once  a 
disposition  to  seize  a  stick  or  stone,  or  to  make  use  of  his 
heel,  if  well  protected,  to  deal  a  fatal  stroke.  War  to  the 
death  seems  to  be  the  cry  between  the  highest  of  the 
mammals  and  the  serpent  tribe.  It  is  not  at  all  surprising, 
therefore,  that  the  snake,  seeing  a  human  enemy,  should 
either  glide  hastily  off  into  the  bushes,  or,  being  thwarted, 
should  coil  itself  up  and  hiss  or  throw  itself  forward  in 
attack.  Man  would  do  well  to  protect  the  snakes  about  his 
domains,  and  treat  them  as  friends,  for  they  do  him  invalu- 
able service  in  the  destruction  of  vermin  that  make  havoc 
with  his  crops. 

Ants,  bees,  spiders,  and  many  fishes,  animals  that  are  lower 
down  in  the  scale  than  the  snake,  it  is  claimed,  show  far  more 
forecast,  ingenuity  and  architectural  ability  than  it,butasserters 
of  such  an  opinion  forget  that  the  snake  is  never  studied  under 
favorable  conditions.  Long  ages  of  persecution  have  made 
him  fearful  of  man,  from  whose  presence  he  flees  as  from  a 
pestilence  or  scourge,  and  there  is  consequently  no  chance 
to  learn  his  better  nature.  Even  man,  until  recently,  has 
shown  no  inclination  to  make  his  acquaintance,  being  con- 
trolled by  a  dread  which  it  appears  well  nigh  impossible  to 
overcome.  Where  the  animal  has  been  made  to  partake  of 
the  milk  of  human  kindness,  and  has  learned  to  regard  man 
as  a  friend  and  not  an  enemy,  he  has  shown  remarkable  sus- 
ceptibility to  culture  and  enlightenment.  Let  it  be  hoped 
that  a  modicum  of  the  wisdom  which  has  been  attributed  to 
him  from  the  earliest  of  times,  when  he  was  made  the  object 
of  homage  and  the  insignia  of  the  physician,  shall  at  least  be 
found  to  remain  to  the  credit  of  science  and  truth. 


HOUSE-BERING  ftEPTIItES. 


TURTLES  are  four-legged  reptiles,  with  short,  stout, 
oval-shaped  bodies  encased  in  bony  boxes,  from 
which  they  are  able  to  protrude  their  heads,  legs  and  tails, 
and  into  which  they  can  withdraw  them,  at  pleasure.  Con- 
siderable diversity  exists  in  the  size  and  shape  of  the  box- 
like  covering  in  the  different  species.  The  Box  Tortoise  can 
retire  into  his  shell  or  house,  closing  the  under  part  or  plas- 
tron into  a  groove  of  the  upper  edge  of  the  carapace,  as  the 
upper  part  is  called,  thus  constituting  for  his  security  an  im- 
pregnable retreat.  There  are  species  only  partly  enclosed  by 
the  shell,  which  cannot  bring  their  heads  and  feet  under  cover. 

With  his  house  upon  his  back  the  turtle  wanders  about  as 
the  snail  does,  and  against  his  enemies  can  close  its  doors 
and  be  emphatically  not  at  home.  He  has  acute  sight  and 
hearing,  but  is  devoid  of  teeth,  the  jaws  being,  like  those  of 
birds,  simply  cased  in  horn.  Turtles  are  not  altogether 
silent  creatures,  for  many  of  them  are  capable  of  producing 
very  loud  sounds. 

Their  eggs,  which  have  a  parchment-like  covering,  are 
buried  in  earth  or  sand,  and  left  to  themselves  to  hatch.  The 
sea-turtle,  our  largest  variety,  is  sometimes  found  to  lay  as 
many  as  two  hundred  eggs  in  a  heap,  and  in  tropical  regions 
has  been  known  to  attain  a  weight  of  a  thousand  pounds. 
Even  on  the  Atlantic  Coast  of  the  United  States  individuals, 
weighing  upwards  of  eight  hundred  pounds,  have  not  infre- 
quently been  captured. 

In  the  four  species  of  sea-turtles,  the  feet  are  flat  and  pad- 
dle-shaped, and  the  shell  of  one  rather  leathery  than  horny. 


House-Bearing  Reptiles.  199 

Some  of  these  marine  forms  are  carnivorous,  living  on  fish, 
mollusks  and  crustaceans,  while  others  are  strictly  vege- 
tarians, subsisting  only  on  roots  and  the  various  sea-weeds. 
The  flesh  of  some  is  rich  and  delicious,  and  a  favorite  and 
costly  article  of  food,  but  of  others  it  is  coarse  and  ill- 
flavored,  and  necessarily  not  edible.  The  eggs,  however, 
are  always  sweet,  good  and  wholesome  food.  Valuable 
articles  of  commerce,  such  as  boxes,  cases,  knife-handles, 
jewelry  and  other  delicate  ornaments,  are  made  from  the 
shell,  for  it  is  susceptible  of  a  very  high  polish,  which  brings 
out  with  surprising  clearness  its  rich  brown  and  golden  shades 
and  markings. 

Next  to  the  sea-living  turtles,  come  the  fresh-water  spe- 
cies, which  eat  both  animal  and  vegetable  foods.  They 
enjoy  much  better  than  aught  else  a  bed  of  soft  mud,  their 
heads  lifted  above  the  surface  of  the  stagnant  water,  their 
long  necks  moving  snake-like  as  they  gulp  in  mouthful  after 
mouthful  of  air.  They  are  generally  gregarious  in  habits, 
large  numbers  often  being  found  huddled  together  in  the  sun 
on  logs  or  banks,  close  to  the  water,  into  which  they  quickly 
slide  upon  the  first  intimation  of  danger.  Timid  as  they  are, 
yet  they  will  snap  and  bite  most  furiously  when  taken  in  the 
hand. 

Salt-  and  fresh-water  terrapins  are  varieties  of  turtle, 
although  some  scientists  restrict  the  latter  term  to  marine 
animals  that  do  not  hibernate,  and  that  cannot  draw  their 
head  and  feet  inside  the  shell.  The  tortoise  never  goes  to 
sea  they  say,  can  draw  himself  within  his  shell,  although  the 
Box  Tortoise  only  can  close  the  shell  fast  when  thus  with- 
drawn, and  finally,  that  the  tortoise  hibernates.  Some  of  the 
best  and  latest  writers  on  the  subject  call  all  these  animals 
turtles,  applying  the  name  tortoise  only  to  the  familiar  Box 
Tortoise  of  the  wood. 

Awkward  as  turtles  appear  in  their  box-like  covering,  yet 
they  can  walk  rapidly  on  land,  are  climbers  of  some  note,  and 
all  are  able  to  swim.  The  head,  neck,  and  legs  of  a  turtle 


2OO  Life  and  Immortality. 

are  of  a  bronze,  blackish  green,  or  deep-brown  color,  and  the 
shells  are  beautifully  marked,  glossy,  ridged,  or  carved,  and 
made  up  of  closely-united,  many-sided  plates,  arranged 
upon  a  thickened,  lighter-colored  and  apparently  uniform 
bony  plate,  which  is  capable  of  being  separated  into  many 
independent  pieces.  The  shell,  or  epidermic  covering,  is 
not  brittle  and  lime-like,  as  the  shells  of  all  mollusks  are,  but 
*is  of  the  nature  of  horn.  In  general  the  plastron  is  of  a 
lighter  color  than  the  carapace,  being  light-brown,  yellow  or 
cream,  with  yellowish  lines  dividing  the  plates,  and  with 
bordering  bands  of  red,  yellow  and  purple.  The  upper 
plate  is  usually  of  a  very  dark  color,  marked  and  lined  with 
darker  and  lighter  tints,  and  often  displaying  a  bevelled 
yellow  edge.  Chrysemys  picta,  the  Painted  Turtle,  receives 
his  name  from  the  beauty  of  his  many-colored  shell,  while 
the  Spotted  Turtle,  Nanemys  guttatus,  which  is  often  called 
the  Wood  Turtle,  is  distinguished  by  the  round  yellow 
spots  that  are  regularly  distributed  over  his  dark-colored 
carapace. 

But  of  all  our  turtles  none  is  so  well  known  or  so  interest- 
ing in  his  ways  as  the  Common  Box  Tortoise — Cistudo 
clausa.  He  affects  dry  woods,  and  dislikes  the  water,  and  is 
a  long-lived  creature,  some  individuals  having  been  known 
to  live  more  than  a  hundred  years.  Box  Tortoises  in  confine- 
ment have  been  found  to  eat  meat,  insects  and  bread  and 
milk  from  the  hand,  but  if  berries  were  put  into  their  mouths 
they  wiped  them  out  in  a  very  funny  manner  with  their  front 
feet,  which  they  used  after  the  fashion  of  a  hand. 

When  foraging  in  the  woods,  especially  during  the  rainy 
season,  at  which  time  manifold  varieties  of  fungi  prevail,  they 
make  their  meals  largely  upon  these  plants.  We  have  seen 
a  huge  toadstool  that  had  been  gnawed  off  so  evenly,  the 
central  pillar  only  being  left  intact,  that  appeared  as  though 
it  had  been  cut  away  by  a  knife.  This  had  been  the  work  of 
the  Box  Tortoise,  for  on  looking  around  we  soon  descried, 
moving  leisurely  over  the  leaf-strewn  earth,  the  creature 


House- Bearing  Reptiles.  201 


COMMON  BOX  TORTOISE. 
Breakfasting  on  a  Toadstool. 


himself  making  a  fresh  attack  upon  another  species  in  a  little 
opening  in  the  woods. 

Very  amusing  it  was  to  watch  him,  as  with  praiseworthy 
deliberation  he  ate  round  after  round  of  the  cap  of  the 
fungus.  He  would  bite  off  a  mouthful  of  the  toadstool, 
chew  it  carefully  until  he  had  extracted  the  whole  of  the 
juice,  then  open  his  mouth  and  drop  out  the  masticated 
fibre,  and  take  a  fresh  mouthful,  not  biting  inward  toward 
the  stem,  but  breaking  off  the  morsel  next  beside  that  which 
he  had  just  eaten.  He  paced  round  and  round  the  fungus 
as  he  took  his  bites,  and  as  the  fungus  decreased  in*  regular 
circles,  the  chewed  fragments  increased.  In  less  than  an 
hour  he  had  eaten  all  the  disk  of  the  fungus  to  the  stipe, 
and  then  walked  slowly  away  to  seek  for  another.  The  dis- 
carded parts  of  the  fungus  appeared  quite  dry  when 
examined,  nothing  nutritious  being  left  in  them.  There 
must  have  been  some  very  good  reason  for  rejecting  the 
central  part  and  the  stem,  which  were  left  in  every  instance, 


2O2  Life  and  Immortality. 

but  what  that  reason  was  we  could  not  imagine.  If  a  decayed 
or  wormy  portion-  of  a  toadstool  was  encountered  in  the 
feeding  process,  he  did  not  bite  round  it,  but  abandoned  the 
plant  altogether,  and  went  off  in  quest  of  a  fresh  specimen. 

Coming,  in  his  travels,  to  a  steep  gully  or  ravine  which  he 
desires  to  cross,  he  does  not  attempt  the  undertaking  with- 
out counting  his  chances  of  success.  He  seemingly  revolves 
the  matter  over  and  over  for  some  time  in  his  mind,  and, 
when  at  last  he  has  reached  a  conclusion,  draws  his  head  and 
feet  under  cover,  and  by  some  quick,  sudden  jerk  flings  him- 
self down  to  the  bottom,  trusting  to  good  fortune  and  his 
own  wits  to  making  his  way  over  the  further  incline.  Obser- 
vation teaches  that  his  deliberations  are  generally  attended 
with  the  accomplishment  of  the  result  to  be  attained. 

There  is  a  very  common  turtle,  quite  abundant  in  the  small 
lakes  and  streams  of  our  Western  States,  where  he  is  trapped 
in  great  numbers  for  the  market,  which  country  people  dub 
the  Snapping  Turtle,  or  which,  from  the  resemblance  which 
the  head  and  neck,  when  stretched  out,  bear  to  the  same  parts 
of  the  alligator,  takes  the  name  of  Alligator  Turtle,  or 
Chelydra  serpentina,  with  the  more  learned  naturalist.  He 
has  a  shell  too  small  to  close  over  him  and  hide  him  com- 
pletely, but  nature,  to  make  up  for  this  deficiency  of  cover- 
ing, has  given  him  a  bold  and  hasty  temper,  which  leads  him 
to  snap  vigorously  when  disturbed.  Snapping  Turtles  live 
rather  harmoniously  together,,  even  when  confined  in  the 
same  pen,  and  only  manifest  their  ugly  dispositions  towards 
each  other  when  excited  by  causes  from  without,  with  whose 
origin  they  have  nothing  to  do.  Contests  of  a  very  vicious 
character  are  often  thus  precipitated,  which  sooner  or  later 
end  in  the  death  of  one  or  more  of  the  belligerent  parties. 

Down  in  the  pine  countries  of  our  Southern  States  lives  a 
large,  stout  animal,  with  a  shell  fifteen  inches  in  length, 
which  is  denominated  the  Gopher,  or  Testudo  Carolina. 
These  animals  dwell  in  troops,  several  families  digging  their 
dens  or  burrows  near  together,  the  entrance  thereto  being 


House-Bearing  Reptiles.  203 

about  four  feet  long  and  expanding  into  a  spacious  apart- 
ment. In  each  burrow  resides  a  single  pair  of  Gophers.  By 
day  the  Gophers  keep  close  house,  but  by  night  they  wander 
out  in  search  of  food,  devouring  yams,  melons,  corn  and  other 
garden  produce.  They  dislike  wet  weather,  and  always  go 
in-doors  when  it  rains.  Gophers'  eggs,  which  are  as  large  as 
pigeons'  eggs,  and  also  their  flesh,  are  highly  esteemed  as 
articles  of  diet  by  the  negroes. 

In  Europe,  a  near  cousin  of  the  Gopher  is  kept  about  the 
house  for  a  pet.  If  allowed,  in  the  autumn,  to  find  his  way 
into  a  garden,  he  digs  a  hole  and  hibernates,  coming  out  in 
the  spring.  An  English  lady  had  one  of  these  animals  which 
lived  in  the  kitchen.  He  was  fond  of  creeping  into  the  fire- 
place and  getting  under  the  grate,  where  he  would  content- 
edly lie  until  the  hot  coal  and  ashes  dropped  upon  his  back 
and  burnt  his  shell.  When  winter  came  this  little  creature 
wanted  to  take  his  long  sleep,  and  dug  so  persistently  into 
baskets,  drawers,  boxes  and  closets,  that  finally  a  box  of 
earth  was  given  to  him,  into  which  he  worked  his  way  until 
out  of  sight,  and  there  he  remained  until  April  sun  and 
showers  called  him  from  his  winter  retreat.  His  fare  was 
potatoes,  carrots,  turnips  and  bread  and  milk,  which  he 
•especially  liked. 


SO|VHWEl{  DOCK. 


IpERHAPS  no  species  of  North  American  water-bird  is 
J-  more  highly  esteemed  by  lovers  of  the  beautiful  in 
nature  than  Aix  sponsa — the  Summer  Duck,  or  Wood  Duck 
— and,  when  obtainable,  is  one  of  the  first  to  find  room  in 
the  collection  of  amateur  naturalists.  With  the  epicure,  how- 
ever, he  is  of  rather  inferior  standing,  lacking  as  he  does 
the  delicacy  of  flesh  which  makes  the  green-winged  teal 
and  others  of  his  tribe  of  such  immense  gastronomic  value. 

Though  truly  an  American  species,  yet  this  bird  is  more 
generally  found  throughout  the  United  States  than  any 
other,  nesting  wherever  suitable  localities  present  them- 
selves. North  of  the  Potomac  River,  and  in  the  various 
States  situated  above  the  parallel  of  latitude  which  cuts  its 
head-waters,  at  least  so  far  as  the  country  east  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  is  concerned,  it  is  chiefly  a  migrant,  arriving  to- 
wards the  close  of  March,  or  in  the  beginning  of  April.  South 
of  this  line,  from  Maryland  to  Florida,  and  thence  south-west- 
erly through  the  Gulf  States  into  Mexico,  the  birds  are  found 
in  more  or  less  abundance  during  the  entire  year. 

Pairing  commences  in  the  South  Atlantic  and  Gulf  States, 
we  are  told,  about  the  first  of  March,  but  in  New  England 
and  the  Middle  States  in  favorable  seasons  from  the  first  to 
the  fifteenth  of  April,  whereas  in  the  country  bordering  on 
the  Great  Lakes  and  in  the  Western  States  generally,  it  does 
not  take  place  till  the  last  of  May  or  the  beginning  of  June. 

Upon  their  arrival  in  our  Northern  States  these  birds, 
strange  to  say,  unlike  many  of  their  numerous  family  con- 
nections, seldom  frequent  the  sea-shore  or  the  adjoining  salt 


Summer  Duck.  205 

marshes,  but  manifest  a  predilection  for  the  ponds,  mill- 
dams  and  deep  muddy  streams  of  the  interior;  and  the  same 
is  true  in  more  southern  latitudes,  for  they  prefer  to  place 
their  nests  along  the  creeks  and  bayous  of  the  land  where 
the  orange  and  palmetto  charm  the  eye  with  perennial  ver- 
dure. 

Between  the  time  of  their  appearance  in  March  and  the 
plighting  of  their  vows  at  the  accustomed  trysting-places,  the 
sexes  consort  together  in  flocks  of  four  or  more,  but  never 
in  very  large  numbers,  and  fatten  on  acorns,  the  seeds  of  the 
wild  oats,  and  such  insects  as  they  can  procure  from  the 
tree-branches  or  the  muddy  borders  of  the  streams  and 
ponds  which  they  so  delight  to  visit. 

On  each  recurrence  of  the  mating  season  there  is  reason 
to  believe  that  the  same  couple  come  together  and  pledge 
anew  their  fidelity  and  affection,  unless  debarred  by  death,  or 
some  other  of  the  many  vicissitudes  to  which  life  is  prone. 
The  troth-plight  sealed,  and  a  union  effected,  the  happy 
couple  soon  start  off  in  quest  of  a  spot  for  a  home.  In  the 
case  of  old  birds  the  same  locality,  where  no  interference 
has  been  experienced  from  beast  or  man,  has  been  known  to 
be  visited  for  four  successive  years.  For  obvious  reasons, 
Wood  Ducks  delight  to  live  in  close  proximity  to  bodies  of 
water,  such  places  affording  conveniences  to  the  young;  when 
they  are  sufficiently  matured  to  betake  themselves  thither, 
for  food  and  exercise.  Situations  remote  from  water  entail 
unnecessary  labor  upon  the  female,  who  is  then  required,  at 
considerable  risk  and  peril,  to  carry  them  one  by  one  to  the 
pond  or  stream  in  her  bill.  When  the  distance  is  not  too 
great,  and  the  ground  underneath  the  nesting-tree  is  amply 
covered  with  dry  leaves  and  grasses,  the  young  scramble  to 
the  mouth  of  the  nest,  drop  themselves  down,  and  under 
the  maternal  leadership  wend  their  way  to  the  much-loved 
fluid.  Often  the  tree  or  stub  which  contains  their  home  is 
found  to  overshadow  the  water.  All  that  is  necessary  then 
is  for  the  tender  little  creatures,  after  reaching  the  entrance, 


2O6 


Life  and  Immortality. 


SUMMER  DUCKS  AND  YOUNG. 
Female  Carrying  Young  in  Her  Bill  from  Nest  in  Hollow  Tree. 


to  spread  their  ill-feathered  pinions  and  oar-like  feet  and 
fling  themselves  down,  a  feat  which  can  be  performed  without 
jeopardy  to  life  or  limb. 

Almost  any  tree,  or  tree-branch,  containing  the  essential 
hollow,  and  suitably  located,  is  utilized.  Broken  branches 
of  high  sycamores,  seldom  more  than  forty  or  fifty  feet  from 
water,  are,  according  to  Audubon,  favorite  places,  while  Wilson 
claims  to  have  met  the  home  of  a  pair  of  these  birds  in  a 
fork  composed  of  branches,  and  built  out  of  a  few  rude 
sticks.  In  the  South,  the  forsaken  retreat  of  the  gray 
squirrel  and  the  hole  of  the  ivory-billed  woodpecker  are 
common  nesting-places.  Often  the  entrance  to  the  nest  is 
apparently  so  small  when  compared  with  the  bulk  of  the 
occupant  that  it  is  a  matter  of  surprise  to  many  that  she  can 


Summer  Duck.  207 

manage  to  make  her  way  into  it  without  suffering  bodily 
injuries.  But  she  does,  nevertheless,  which  is  an  evidence 
that  she  either  knows  how  to  conform  to  circumstances,  or 
is  a  better  judge  of  dimensions  than  many  of  the  would-be- 
wise  lords  of  creation.  All  nests  of  our  finding  have  been 
wide  enough  at  their  mouths  to  admit  of  easy  passage,  and 
have  been  from  four  to  six  feet  in  vertical  direction.  Soft 
decayed  wood,  and  a  few  feathers,  doubtless  plucked  from 
the  breast  of  the  builder,  were  their  only  contents.  Dry 
plants,  down,  and-  feathers  of  the  wild  turkey,  wild  goose 
and  the  common  barnyard  fowl,  have  been  observed,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  foregoing  articles,  by  other  writers.  The  height 
of  the  entrance  above  the  ground  varies  from  fifteen  to  thirty 
feet,  but  probably  a  less,  or  even  a  greater  elevation,  may 
sometimes  be  attained. 

Wilson  speaks  of  a  nest  which  he  observed  in  an  old  gro- 
tesque white  oak,  which  stood  on  a  slope  of  one  of  the  banks 
of  the  Tuckahoe  River,  in  New  Jersey,  just  twenty  yards 
from  the  water's  edge,  that  had  been  occupied  for  four  con- 
secutive years.  At  the  time  of  his  visit  the  nest  contained 
thirteen  young  birds,  which  the  maternal  head  was  engaged 
in  carrying  down  to  the  water  to  give  them,  perhaps,  their 
first  experience  in  the  art  of  swimming.  So  carefully,  and 
yet  so  adroitly  and  quickly,  did  she  perform  this  seemingly 
difficult  task,  that  she  was  less  than  ten  minutes  in  its  ac- 
complishment. Although  the  male  usually  stands  sentry 
while  the  processes  of  laying  and  sitting  are  going  on,  and 
signals  the  approach  of  enemies  by  a  peculiar  cry  which  has 
been  likened  to  the  crowing  of  a  young  cock — ce-eek! 
ce-eek ! — yet  from  the  silence  of  one  writer  upon  the  subject 
we  infer  that  the  duty  of  rearing  the  rather  numerous  family 
is  left  to  the  mother,  while  he — her  friend  and  consequential 
partner,  as  though  disdaining  such  ignoble  and  degrading 
work,  because  of  its  slavish  character — is  off  with  his  gay  com- 
panions, disporting  themselves  in  mid-air,  or  trimming,  while 
perched  upon  some  sheltering  bough,  their  rich  and  varied 


208  Life  and  Immortality. 

plumage.  So  intent,  however,  was  the  mother-bird  upon  the 
faithful  discharge  of  her  home-duties,  that  she  heeded  not  the 
stately  sloop,  then  nearly  completed,  as  it  lay  upon  the 
stocks  close-by,  with  its  hull  looming  up  within  twelve  feet 
of  her  home,  darkened  with  the  presence,  and  reverberating 
with  the  noise  of  workmen,  but  continued  to  pass  in  and  out 
as  though  utterly  unconscious  of  the  so  near  approach  of 
danger.  Audubon  claims  that  the  male  deserts  the  female 
when  the  period  of  sitting  commences,  and  joins  his  sterner 
brethren,  who  unite  into  flocks  of  considerable  numbers,  and 
keep  apart  from  their  partners  until  the  young  are  fully  ma- 
tured, when  young  and  old  of  both  sexes  come  together,  and 
thus  remain  until  the  return  of  another  breeding-season. 

The  female,  it  is  evident  from  what  has  just  been  said, 
assumes  the  entire  charge  of  incubation.  For  more  than 
twenty-one  days  she  is  thus  busied,  with  nothing,  it  would 
seem,  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  her  task.  How  often  she 
despairs  and  bewails  the  hardship  of  her  lot,  none  can  know. 
It  is  the  inexorable  decree  of  fate  that  she  should  perform 
the  duties  alone  and  unassisted,  and  most  willingly  she  sub- 
mits. But  the  ennui  of  the  labor  is,  in  a  measure,  forgotten 
in  the  vision  that  hope  holds  out  to  her  patience,  for  her  per- 
sistent assiduity  is  ultimately  rewarded  by  a  whole  nest-full 
of  happy  ducklings.  While  the  hatching  process  is  going 
on  the  patient  housewife  only  leaves  the  nest  when  pressed 
by  the  pangs  of  hunger,  and  but  for  a  short  time.  Before 
leaving,  however,  she  takes  the  precaution  to  see  that  her 
creamy-white,  elliptical  treasures,  to  the  number  of  ten  or 
thirteen  eggs,  are  carefully  covered  with  down. 

Like  the  young  of  our  domesticated  species,  the  little 
Wood  Ducks  follow  the  mother  almost  as  soon  as  they  are 
hatched,  and  gather  whatever  of  vegetable  and  insect  food 
they  happen  to  encounter.  They  are  passionately  fond  of 
the  water,  and  best  show  their  real  character  when  gracefully 
floating  upon  its  glassy  bosom,  or  diving  into  its  azure 
depths.  At  an  early  age  they  respond  to  the  parent's  call 


Summer  Duck.  209 

with  a  soft  and  mellow  pee,  pee,  pee-e,  which  is  uttered  quite 
rapidly,  and  at  repeated  intervals.  The  call  of  the  mother, 
when  addressing  the  young  at  such  times,  is  rather  low  and 
soft,  and  resembles  that  of  the  young,  being  only  a  little  more 
prolonged. 

These  beautiful  birds  have  often  been  domesticated.  They 
become  at  such  times  so  unsuspicious  and  familiar  as  to 
allow  themselves  to  be  stroked  by  the  hand.  No  handsomer 
bird  could  be  chosen  for  introduction  into  our  yards.  The 
male,  some  nineteen  inches  in  length,  and  with  a  scope  of 
wing  of  two  and  one-third  feet,  is  a  being  of  no  mean  pro- 
portions. But  it  is  the  richness  and  variety  of  his  colors 
that  render  him  an  object  of  admiration.  A  conspicuous 
green  and  purple  crest  adorns  his  head,  while  the  sides,  which 
are  iridescent  purple,  are  relieved  of  their  monotony  by  a 
streak  of  white  from  base  of  bill  to  occiput,  and  by  another, 
back  of  the  eye,  of  a  pure  white  color,  which  is  continuous 
with  that  of  the  throat.  The  sides  and  front  of  the  lower 
neck  and  the  forepart  of  the  breast  are  a  bright  chestnut,  with 
five  white  spots,  while  the  lower  parts  are  generally  white. 
Beautifully  iridescent  metallic  hues  set  off  the  upper  surfaces 
of  the  wings,  which  show  most  effectively  in  the  blaze  of  the 
noonday  sun.  To  the  female  nature  has  not  been,  it  would 
seem  to  the  casual  observer,  quite  so  propitious.  Her  grayish 
head,  with  lengthened  hind-feathers,  white  throat,  brownish- 
yellow  fore-neck,  upper  breast  and  sides,  striped  with  grayish 
and  generally  dark-brown  upper  parts,  glossed  chiefly  with 
purple,  contrast  most  markedly  with  the  rich,  gorgeous  attire 
of  her  other  half.  While  less  showy  in  dress  and  lacking 
the  dignity  of  demeanor  that  characterizes  her  lord,  she  is 
none  the  less  fitted  to  perform  her  part  in  the  drama  of  life. 
Her  dress,  sober  in  color,  and  with  just  enough  of  ornament 
to  relieve  the  oppressiveness  of  its  sameness,  is  so  accord- 
ant with  her  home-surroundings  as  to  afford  her  the  pro- 
tection and  security  she  requires  in  the  trying  and  perilous 
duties  of  brood-raising. 


fl]«EflICflH  WOODCOCK. 


QUITE  as  interesting  in  habits  is  the  American  Wood- 
^^  cock,  the  Philohela  minor  of  Gray,  which  belongs  to 
the  grallatorial,  rather  than  to  the  natatorial,  family  of  birds. 
In  distribution  he  is  somewhat  restricted,  differing  in  this 
respect  from  his  numerous  congeneric  brethren,  which  have 
a  wide  dispersion.  He  is  chiefly  a  denizen  of  the  eastern 
parts  of  the  United  States,  and  of  the  British  territory  im- 
mediately adjacent.  Fort  Rice,  in  north-western  Dakota, 
and  Kansas  and  Nebraska  in  the  West,  appear  to  be  the 
limits  of  his  range  in  these  directions.  In  the  Middle  and 
Eastern  States  Woodcocks  are  found  in  greater  abundance 
than  anywhere  else.  While  the  bulk  pass  North  to  breed, 
a  few  remain  in  the  South  and  raise  their  happy  little  families 
in  spite  of  the  ardor  of  the  climate. 

Few  migrants  arrive  earlier  at  their  breeding-grounds. 
They  usually  appear  from  the  fifth  to, the  tenth  of  March  in 
New  England  and  the  Middle  Atlantic  States,  although 
instances  are  recorded  where  they  have  been  observed  as 
early  as  the  twenty-fourth  of  Feburary.  These  cases  are 
rare,  however,  and  only  happen,  if  at  all,  when  the  weather 
has  been  remarkably  auspicious  for  a  lengthy  spell.  As  a 
few  birds  have  been  known  to  winter  in  the  North,  when 
the  season  has  been  unusually  mild,  their  emergence  from 
sheltered  localities  so  early  might  be  construed  by  persons 
not  cognizant  of  their  presence,  or  of  their  occasional  winter 
sojourn,  as  a  case  of  recent  arrival.  In  view  of  this  fact,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  prove  that  a  bird  seen  in  winter  had 
just  come  from  the  South,  unless  discovered  in  transitu. 


American  Woodcock.  211 

Small  companies,  from  four  to  six  in  number,  start  together 
upon  the  migratory  tour.  Low,  swampy  thickets  invite 
their  presence  upon  reaching  their  destination.  Here  they 
conceal  themselves  during  the  day,  but  when  night  has 
gathered  dark  they  come  out  of  their  grassy  retreats  and 
wander  about  in  quest  of  food.  From  the  setting  of  the  sun 
behind  the  western  hills  to  the  appearance  of  the  first  streaks 
of  dawn  in  the  east,  they  pursue  their  nocturnal  rambles. 
Few  persons  have  visited  these  birds  in  their  accustomed 
haunts  while  foraging.  Let  me  take  the  reader  to  some 
neighboring  swamp,  or  by  the  side  of  some  lonely  woodland, 
which  these  birds  delight  to  frequent.  The  utmost  silence 
must  be  maintained,  or  they  will  be  frightened  away.  While 
it  will  be  difficult  to  see  the  creatures  that  have  called  us 
hither,  yet  we  know  they  are  not  far  away  by  the  rustle  they 
produce  among  the  dry  leaves,  and  by  the  peculiar  notes 
they  emit.  Chipper,  chip-per,  chip  may  be  heard  from  the 
right,  and  almost  at  the  next  instant  it  is  varied  to  bleat  or 
bleat  ta  bleat  ta,  produced  in  the  contrary  direction,  or  off  in 
the  distance,  showing  that  the  authors  of  these  sounds  have 
changed  their  positions.  While  these  birds  have  a  habitual 
fondness  for  humid  thickets,  they  not  infrequently  betake 
themselves  to  corn-fields  and  other  cultivated  tracts  in  close 
proximity,  and  even  to  elevated  woods. 

For  more  than  a  fortnight  after  their  arrival  the  sexes, 
though  feeding  in  company,  do  not  apparently  manifest  a 
disposition  to  assume  conjugal  relationship.  The  desire  for 
food  seems  to  outweigh  every  other  consideration.  The 
inclemency  of  the  weather,  and  the  coldness  of  the  earth, 
may  have  much  to  do  with  holding  the  amatory  forces  in 
check.  But  when  the  opportune  period  arrives,  which  it 
does  in  the  course  of  events,  the  sexes  desist  in  a  measure 
from  their  riotous  living  and  give  the  nobler  instincts  of 
their  being  a  chance  to  assert  their  power.  The  males  are 
the  first  to  feel  the  changes  which  are  being  wrought  in  their 
natures.  For  more  than  a  week  from  the  incipiency  of  this 


212  Life  and  Immortality. 

feeling,  in  the  early  morning  and  evening  hours,  they  may 
be  seen  exercising  themselves  by  means  of  "  curious  spiral 
gyrations "  in  mid-air,  and  uttering,  as  earthwards  they 
descend,  a  note  which  has  been  likened  to'the  word  kwank. 
This  note  may  be  a  call  to  the  female  in  the  spring,  but  as  it 
is  often  uttered  in  the  fall  after  the  breeding-season  is  past, 
it  may  also  be  a  summons  for  the  gathering  together  of  the 
members  of  the  same  household.  The  production  of  these 
sounds  seems  a  labor  of  very  great  effort  But  the  movements 
of  the  males  at  these  times  must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated. 
The  head  and  bill  are  bent  forward  until  the  latter  comes 
into  contact  with  the  ground,  and,  just  as  the  sound  is  being 
emitted,  the  body  is  urged  violently  forward.  These  spas- 
modic exertions  having  ceased,  the  actor  in  this  drama 
twitches  his  abbreviated,  half-spread  tail,  assumes  an  erect 
attitude  of  listening,  and,  if  no  response  is  elicited,  repeats  his 
characteristic  cry  with  all  its  accompanying  movements.  If 
the  call  awakes  an  answering  note,  the  happy  lover  flies  to 
the  presence  of  the  one  he  seeks  and  lavishes  upon  her  the 
most  endearing  caresses.  Sometimes,  as  Audubon  affirms, 
the  male  awaits  the  arrival  of  the  dear  one,  and  does  not  fly 
to  meet  her.  The  summons,  according  to  the  same  eminent 
authority,  seem  sometimes  to  be  replied  to  by  one  of  the 
same  sex,  which  is  always  the  prelude  to  a  fierce  encounter 
between  the  two,  for,  on  such  occasions,  when  the  feelings 
are  in  a  high  state  of  tension,  the  most  intense  enmity  exists 
between  the  males.  But  these  contentions  are  ordinarily 
short-lived,  and  cease  with  the  assumption  of  matrimonial 
relations. 

The  happiness  of  the  male  is  now  complete.  With  his 
homely  but  prepossessing  bride  by  his  side,  he  soon  journeys 
off  in  search  of  a  home.  This  is  a  matter  of  great  conse- 
quence, and  tasks  the  patience  to  the  utmost.  But  their 
labors  are  eventually  crowned  with  success.  The  most 
secluded  resorts  are  visited,  and  in  some  low,  dense  and 
swampy  woods  or  brake,  difficult  of  access,  and  one  that 


American  Woodcock.  213 

none  but  the  cruel  collector  would  be  likely  to  find,  they 
hide  away  their  nest.  The  structure  is  generally  placed  on 
the  ground,  at  the  foot  of  a  bush  or  tussock,  in  the  midst  of 
small  birches  or  alders,  or  on  a  decayed  stump  or  prostrate 
log.  In  certain  localities,  it  is  snugly  nestled  in  the  midst  of 
a  meadow.  It  is  by  no  means  an  elaborate  affair,  but  merely 
consists  of  a  few  dried  leaves  or  grasses  which  are  scratched 
together  by  the  female,  and  the  work  of  a  few  brief  hours  at 
the  most. 

Being  ready  for  occupancy,  the  female  soon  commences 
to  deposit  her  eggs.  These,  to  the  number  of  three  or 
four,  are  laid  one  at  a  time  on  consecutive  days.  Ovi- 
position,  in  the  Southern  States,  commences  in  February  or 
March,  while  in  the  northern  limits  of  the  bird's  range  from 
the  tenth  to  the  fifteenth  of  April,  seldom  later.  Both  birds 
perform  the  labor  of  incubation,  and  so  attentive  are  they  to 
the  business  that  it  is  an  unusual  occurrence  to  find  both 
absent  from  the  nest  at  the  same  time.  When  the  female  is 
sitting  the  male  busies  himself  in  attending  to  the  demands 
of  hunger ;  and  when  her  turn  has  come  the  care  of  the  nest 
is  resigned  to  her  noble,  conscientious  lord.  So  faithfully  do 
they  keep  to  the  nest  that  nothing  short  of  the  most  menac- 
ing danger  will  compel  them  to  leave.  The  approach  of  a 
team  or  a  pedestrian,  even  when  within  a  few  feet  of  its 
location,  has  not  been  known  to  startle  them.  But  when 
the  danger  is  quite  imminent  the  sitting  bird  slips  out  of  the 
nest  and  makes  her  way  into  the  tall  grasses,  where,  hidden 
from  view,  she  becomes  a  silent  and  sorrowful  witness  of  any 
disaster  that  may  befall  her  home.  Should  no  destruction 
be  perpetrated,  and  the  intruder  has  gone  his  way,  she  cau- 
tiously comes  out  of  her  place  of  concealment  and  resumes 
her  labors.  But  she  has  learned  a  very  impressive  lesson, 
for  on  a  second  visit  to  the  nest  no  bird  is  to  be  seen. 
Apprised  of  the  coming  of  danger,  she  has  slipped  out  in 
time  to  escape  detection.  Thus,  patiently,  persistently  and 
unweariedly  these  faithful  creatures  apply  themselves  by 


214 


Life  and  Immortality. 


AMERICAN  WOODCOCK. 
Mother  Flying  Away  With  Young  Between  Her  Feet. 


turns  to  the  task  of  sitting  until  success  has  crowned  their 
willing  labors.  The  time  spent  in  hatching  is,  under  the  most 
favorable  conditions,  from  seventeen  to  eighteen  days. 

The  young  are  very  timid  creatures  and  keep  close  to 
their  parents.  Considerable  solicitude  is  shown  by  the  latter 
for  their  well-being.  Their  helpless  infancy,  so  to  speak,  is 
watched  over  with  all  the  care  that  a  human  mother  bestows 
upon  her  offspring,  and  when  their  lives  are  endangered  re- 
course is  had  to  many  a  ruse  to  deceive  their  enemies  and 
bring  them  into  places  of  security.  When  severely  pressed 
by  foes,  the  mother,  by  a  peculiar  alarm,  warns  them  of  the 
state  of  things,  and  while  they  are  scattering  in  different 
directions  seeks  to  attract  attention  to  herself  in  many  a 
well-feigned  artifice.  In  her  anxiety  for  their  safety,  she  has 


American  Woodcock.  215 

even  been  observed  to  seize  between  her  two  feet  a  young- 
ling and  fly  with  it  away — a  behavior  whose  purpose  seemed 
to  be  the  diversion  of  the  enemy  from  the  rest  of  the  brood, 
thus  giving  them  a  chance  to  flee  from  impending  peril  to 
places  of  security  in  the  surrounding  verdure.  After  all 
danger  has  disappeared,  she  summons  them  together  again 
by  a  familiar  call,  and  doubtless  relates  to  them  the  story  of 
her  adventures  and  the  dangers  from  which  they  were  saved. 
Worms,  animalcula,  ants  and  other  soft-bodied  insects,  which 
the  parents  assist  them  in  procuring  from  the  soft  earth,  and 
from  beneath  the  grass  and  dead  leaves  that  abound  in  the 
places  they  frequent,  constitute  their  food.  Later  on  they 
are  able  to  obtain  their  subsistence,  with  all  the  address  of 
older  birds,  by  thrusting  their  bills  into  the  soil  and  in  such 
other  places  as  would  be  likely  to  contain  the  objects  desired. 
Their  tongues,  covered  with  a  viscid  saliva,  adhere  to  the 
food,  and  when  drawn  into  the  mouth  carry  it  with  them 
without  danger  of  being  lost.  All  who  have  made  these 
birds  a  study  have  often  discerned  holes  made  in  the  soft 
mud  by  their  bills.  The  presence  of  these  "borings,"  as 
they  are  called,  is  always  an  indication  that  game  is  not  far 
distant,  which  a  careful  exploration  of  the  locality  soon 
verifies.  The  young,  when  matured,  continue  to  occupy  the 
same  haunts  with  their  parents,  and,  unless  brought  to  an 
untimely  death  by  the  merciless  gun  of  the  hunter,  repair 
to  the  warm,  sunny,  smiling  South  with  the  return  of  frost. 
In  the  Middle  States — and  the  same  is  doubtless  true  of 
other  sections  of  our  great  country — there  is  never  more 
than  a  single  brood  raised,  although  the  early  breeding  of 
the  species  would  certainly  afford  time  for  a  second  hatching 
before  the  close  of  the  season.  Less  pyriform  are  the  eggs 
of  the  Woodcock  than  waders'  mostly  are,  being,  in  some 
instances,  almost  ovoidal.  Their  ground-color  varies  from  a 
light  clay  to  one  of  buffy-brown,  and  the  markings  occur  in 
the  form  of  fine  spots  and  blotches  of  chocolate-brown,  inter- 
spersed with  others  of  obscure  lilac,  more  or  less  thickly 


216  Life  and  Immortality. 

scattered  over  the  surface  of  the  egg,  their  size  and  intensity 
of  color  bearing,  in  general,  a  direct  correspondence  with  the 
depth  of  the  background.  Remarkable  variations  of  size 
exist  throughout  the  species'  range,  some  being  short  and 
broad,  while  others  are  long  and  narrow.  A  set  of  three 
from  Pennsylvania,  which  the  writer  carefully  measured, 
showed  an  average  measurement  of  1.54  by  1.21  inches. 

So  familiar  a  bird  as  the  Woodcock,  which  is  sometimes 
termed  the  Bog-sucker  or  Wood-snipe,  hardly  needs  descrip- 
tion. He  has  a  thick,  heavily-set  body,  short  and  thick  neck, 
and  large  head,  bill  and  eyes,  and  ears  beneath  the  visual 
organs.  His  wings  are  short  and  rounded,  the  first  three 
primaries  being  very  narrow  and  shorter  than  the  fourth,  and 
the  fourth  and  fifth  the  largest.  The  tarsi  are  about  one  and 
one-fourth  inches  long  and  rather  stout,  the  tibiae  feathered 
to  the  joints,  and  the  toes  long  and  slender,  and  without 
marginal  membranes  or  basal  webs.  More  than  two  and  a 
half  inches  in  length  is  the  bill,  straight,  tapering,  and  stout 
at  base,  with  ridge  at  base  of  maxilla  high,  and  the  upper 
mandible  a  little  larger  than  the  lower,  and  knobbed  at  the 
end.  Three  long  grooves,  one  on  ridge  above,  and  the  others 
on  each  side  of  maxilla,  complete  the  structural  details  of 
the  bill.  The  sexes  are  alike,  the  female  being  larger  than 
the  male.  Adult  specimens  vary  from  ten  to  twelve  inches 
in  length,  and  have  an  expanse  of  wings  of  from  fifteen  to 
eighteen  inches,  and  a  weight  ranging  from  four  to  nine 
ounces.  The  eyes  are  brown,  legs  and  bill  of  the  dried  skin 
pale-brownish,  upper  parts  black,  gray,  russet  and  brown, 
chin  whitish,  and  rest  of  under  parts  different  shades  of 
brownish-red. 

So  exquisitely  sensible  is  the  extremity  of  the  bill,  as  in 
the  snipe,  that  these  birds  are  enabled  to  collect  their  food 
by  the  mere  touch,  without  using  their  eyes,  which  are  set 
at  such  a  distance  and  elevation  in  the  back  part  of  the  head 
as  to  give  them  an  aspect  of  stupidity.  The  eyes  being  sit- 
uated high  up  and  far  back  is  a  wise  provision  of  nature, 


American  Woodcock.  217 

as,  by  this  peculiarity,  they  escape  many  of  their  enemies, 
their  field  of  vision  being  greatly  augmented  by  such  an 
arrangement.  Obtaining  their  sustenance,  as  they  largely 
do,  by  probing  with  their  bills,  so  amply  endowed  with 
nerves,  they  have  comparatively  little  use  for  their  eyes, 
unless  to  keep  watch  for  their  numerous  foes. 

Though  well  known  to  the  sportsman,  yet  by  the  casual 
observer  this  bird  is  frequently  confounded  with  the  Wilson's 
snipe.  But  the  error  can  readily  be  avoided,  if  it  is  borne 
in  mind  that  the  Woodcock  has  the  entire  lower  parts,  includ- 
ing the  lining  of  wings,  a  reddish-brown  color,  while  the 
snipe  has  the  abdomen  white,  the  throat  and  upper  parts  of 
the  breast  speckled,  and  the  lining  of  the  wings  barred  with 
white  and  black. 


PIPIHG 


HAVE  you  ever  been  to  the  sea-shore?  Then,  of 
course,  you  have  met  the  Piping  Plover,  but,  per- 
haps, not  to  know  him.  He  is  of  the  size  of  the  robin,  not 
quite  so  robust,  but  stands  much  taller,  being  mounted  on 
rather  long,  stilt-like  legs,  which  admirably  fit  him  for  the 
life  which  he  is  designed  to  fill  in  the  world.  He  belongs  to 
the  family  of  wading  birds,  and  seeks  the  principal  part  of 
his  food  in  or  by  the  water,  which  could  not  possibly  be  were 
his  walking  appendages  curtailed  the  least  bit  of  their  fair 
proportions.  But  to  be  more  precise  in  my  word-picture, 
let  me  describe  him  to  you  as  of  a  pale  ashy-brown  color, 
fading  into  grayish  upon  the  under  parts,  and  as  having  his 
head  set  off  with  some  narrow  black  bands,  that  on  the  neck 
rarely,  if  ever,  forming  a  perfect  ring.  His  bill  will  be  found 
to  be  short  and  stout  and  blunt,  and  there  will  be  an  appre- 
ciable lack  of  webbing  between  the  middle  and  inner  front 
toes. 

Now  that  it  is  plain  what  the  bird  looks  like,  you  are  cer- 
tainly prepared,  more  than  ever,  to  take  some  interest  in  him 
in  his  brief  stay  by  the  sea.  So  strongly  is  he  attached  to 
the  'scenes  rendered  dear  by  past  associations  and  memories 
that,  from  his  winter  home  in  the  sunny  South,  and  even  from 
over  the  waters  beyond  our  southern  borders,  he  hails  with 
delight  the  return  of  the  vernal  equinox,  for  he  knows  full 
well  that  it  brings  with  it  the  summer's  heat  and  all  its  varied, 
priceless  wealth  of  insect  life. 

So  with  the  first  spring  signs  of  open  weather  he  quits  his 
brumal  retreat,  winds  his  way  up  along  the  trend  of  the 


Piping  Plover. 

Atlantic  seaboard,  and  at  last  reaches  in  the  nights  of  early 
April  the  sandy  beaches  of  our  Jersey  coast.  In  flocks  of  a 
dozen  individuals  they  run  about  the  sand  in  a  most  lively 
manner,  and  utter  all  the  while  a  variety  of  notes  more  or 
less  pleasing,  blending  as  they  do  with  the  deep-toned  bass 
of  the  ocean.  When  this  sound,  welling  up  from  a  dozen 
throats,  is  heard  in  the  dark  it  is  particularly  striking,  as  wild 
and  weird  as  the  whistling  of  a  wind  at  sea  through  the  rig- 
ging of  a  ship. 

But  these  flocks  soon  disperse  into  pairs  to  breed.  Slight 
depressions  in  the  dry  sand,  and  always  in  the  midst  of 
groups  of  broken  colored  shells,  but  out  of  the  reach  of  the 
maddened  waves,  rather  than  in  muddy,  marshy  places  back 
of  the  beach-line,  serve  them  for  nests.  This  nesting  among 
clustered  shells  seemingly  points  to  a  love  for  the  beautiful. 
But  may  it  not  be  that  the  shells  but  mark  the  various  nest- 
positions  in  the  unbroken  waste  of  sand?  We  incline  to  this 
opinion.  There  is  so  much  diversity  manifested  in  the  size 
of  the  groups  and  in  the  arrangement  and  coloration  of  the 
individual  shells  that  comprise  them,  that  no  very  great  diffi- 
culty should  be  experienced  by  the  several  pairs  nesting  in 
the  same  locality  in  knowing  each  other's  nest. 

While  the  birds  are  concerned  with  the  cares  of  brood- 
raising,  which  is  usually  towards  the  close  of  May  or  the 
beginning  of  June,  they  confine  their  feeding  to  the  damp, 
wet  sand.  Between  it  and  the  dry  a  clear  line  of  separation 
is  plainly  noticeable.  It  is  only  when  they  are  ready  for  the 
home  duties  that  they  are  seen  to  resort  to  aerial  navigation. 
Even  when  on  the  very  boundary-line  of  the  two  stretches  of 
sand,  the  wet  and  the  dry,  and  with  the  nest  almost  in  sight, 
they  are  known  to  assume  wing,  taking  due  care,  however, 
to  alight  before  they  have  fairly  reached  the  spot.  In  flight 
an  advantage,  that  of  a  more  commanding  view,  is  acquired, 
which  walking  does  not  give.  But  in  leaving  the  nest  for 
food,  or  for  any  other  purpose,  they,  as  before,  walk  some 
distance  away  before  they  venture  to  fly.  There  is  a  seeming 


22O 


Life  and  Immortality. 


purpose  in  so  doing,  the  object  to  be  gained  being  the  de- 
ceiving of  man  and  other  enemies  as  to  the  real  location 
of  the  nest. 

All  these  precautions  are  undertaken  for  the  sake  of  the 
eggs,  although  in  color  and  markings  these  so  closely  resem- 
ble the  dry  sand  and  intermingled  bits  of  foreign  substances, 
that  such  actions -seem  all  unnecessary.  When  birds  have 
been  flushed  from  the  nest,  and  its  exact  position  has  been 
noted  with  the  greatest  care,  I  have  failed,  after  several  minutes 


FEMALE  PIPING  PLOVER. 

Nest  in  Midst  of  Broken  Shells. 


of  the  closest  searching,  to  detect  the  eggs,  so  true  has  been 
the  color-harmony  between  them  and  the  surrounding  sand. 
This  resemblance  in  coloration  must  be  seen  to  be  fully  ap- 
preciated. In  ground  the  eggs  are  the  palest  possible  creamy- 
brown,  but  marked  all  over,  quite  sparingly,  with  smap 
blackish-brown  dots  and  specks,  the  largest  hardly  exceeding 
a  pin's  head.  Four  is  the  usual  number,  and  these,  from 
their  peculiar  pear-shaped  form,  are  placed  with  their  points 
together  in  the  centre  of  the  nest.  They  are  objects  of  more 


Piping  Plover.  221 

than  ordinary  solicitude,  the  little  Plovers  making  most  vio- 
lent demonstrations  and  pleading  piteously  when  they  are 
approached.  The  mother  employs  all  the  well-known  arti- 
fices, such  as  lameness,  inability  to  fly,  to  draw  the  intruder 
away  from  the  nest.  The  young  run  as  soon  as  they  leave 
the  egg,  and  are  great  adepts  at  hiding,  squatting,  and  re- 
maining motionless.  Their  downy  plumage  so  assimilates 
them  to  the  sand  that  unless  they  reveal  themselves  by 
moving,  it  requires  a  very  keen  eye  to  distinguish  them  from 
the  numberless  tufts  that  are  scattered  about  the  higher 
reaches  of  the  beach. 

Although  so  essentially  a  bird  of  the  sea-shore,  yet  in 
August  many  scores  of  these  birds  come  up  the  Delaware 
River  as  far  as  tide-water  extends,  feeding  upon  the  mud- 
flats and  gravel-bars,  and  occasionally  wending  their  way 
up  along  the  courses  of  the  creeks  until  they  find  them- 
selves well  into  the  country.  It  is  interesting  to  watch  them 
as  they  run  in  and  out  among  the  little  hills  and  hollows  of  the 
mud  in  quest  of  their  prey.  They  are  happy,  light-hearted 
fellows,  who  do  not  begrudge,  when  some  racy  tidbit  has 
rewarded  their  hunting,  to  pipe  a  few  notes  of  thanks  to  Him 
who  watches  as  tenderly  over  them  as  over  the  mighty  lords 
of  the  earth. 


BOB  WHITE. 


OOMEWHAT  related  to  the  grouse  is  the  Quail,  as  he  is 
*-5  called  in  the  Northern  States,  or  "  Bob  White,"  his 
universally  recognized  appellation.  His  scientific  name  is 
OrtyxVirginianus.  Differing  from  the  Old  World  partridges, 
he  has  been  assigned  a  place  in  the  sub-family  Odontopho- 
rinae,  of  which  five  genera  are  said  to  exist,  most  of  them 
being  restricted  to  the  extreme  south-west  of  our  country. 
His  habits  and  history  are  full  of  interest  to  everbody. 

Quails  are  restless,  uneasy  birds,  attached  to  one  place 
while  rearing  their  family,  but  immediately  upon  the  brood 
becoming  able  to  travel,  commencing  their  wanderings.  There 
is  no  accounting  for  these  movements,  which  sometimes 
deprive  a  whole  district  of  their  presence  for  a  time,  to  popu- 
late a  neighboring  region  previously  without  them.  When 
such  journeys  are  undertaken,  a  large  number  of  birds  par- 
ticipate, travelling  on  foot,  and  passing  steadily  through 
districts  where  food  is  plentiful,  and  seemingly  without  any 
definite  destination  in  mind,  so  loath  are  they  to  use  their 
wings,  that  in  attempting  to  cross  wide  rivers  and  inlets 
immense  numbers  are  said  to  perish.  A  limited  and  partial 
migration,  it  is  highly  probable,  takes  place  annually  from 
the  more  northern  to  warmer  latitudes,  influenced  in  its 
extent  by  the  comparative  severity  of  the  seasons,  being 
more  distinctly  migrating  west  than  east  of  the  Delaware 
River. 

About  the  middle  of  March  the  winter  flocks  break  up, 
and  the  mating  begins.  Although  not  indulging  in  the 
noisy 'and  seemingly  meaningless  antics  of  the  grouse  to 


Bob  White.  223 

call  attention  to  his  personal  attractiveness,  Bob  White,  it 
would  appear,  becomes  suddenly  conscious  of  his  comely 
looks  and  excellent  voice.  In  a  dignified  manner,  with  head 
erect,  he  walks  proudly  about,  inviting  the  opposite  sex  to 
view  him  at  his  best  From  the  orchard  gate  he  calls  a 
saucy  good  morning  to  the  farmer,  knowing  that  the  law 
holds  its  agis  over  him  at  this  time,  but  he  keeps  an  eye  to 
hawks,  cats  and  other  predatory  animals  that  respect  neither 
time,  place  nor  season.  He  is  polygamous,  willing  to  assume 
any  amount  of  family  responsibility,  and  will  help  to  rear 
two,  or  even  three,  broods  a  year,  a  successful  pair  often 
turning  out  twenty-five  young  in  a  season.  It  is  not  an 
uncommon  occurrence  to  find  a  covey  of  little  cheepers, 
scarcely  able  to  fly,  as  late  as  November. 

Although  paired  so  early,  the  Quails  do  not  proceed  to  the 
business  of  nidification  in  the  central  part  of  their  range 
until  about  the  middle  of  May.  The  leeward  side  of  some 
dense  tussock  of  grass,  a  mouldering  stump  in  a  wild,  matted 
meadow,  the  woody  margin  of  a  clover  field  or  orchard,  or  an 
old  pasture  overgrown  with  bramble  thickets,  are  situations 
commonly  chosen,  the  female,  as  is  her  undoubted  right, 
taking  the  lead  in  fixing  upon  the  site.  An  artificial  bed 
of  grasses  and  vegetable  trash,  filling  a  shallow  depression, 
is  the  nest.  Sometimes  it  is  placed  so  as  to  be  concealed  by 
overarching  grasses,  through  which  a  regular  tunnel,  several 
feet  in  length,  conducts  to  the  sanctum  ;  and,  at  other  times, 
is  only  covered  with  leaves  and  straw,  which  the  birds  them- 
selves have  rudely  adjusted.  The  nest,  which  is  constructed 
solely  by  the  females  of  the  family,  varies  in  dimensions 
according  to  the  number  of  this  sex  that  anticipate  using  it, 
the  male  in  the  meantime  going  about  in  quest  of  food,  or 
sitting  upon  a  low  twig  close  by,  cheering  his  wives  by  his 
trisyllabic  note,  and  very  faithfully  warning  them  of  the 
imminence  of  danger. 

The  work  is  prosecuted  with  considerable  zeal,  three  days 
at  farthest  sufficing  to  make  the  nest  ready  for  the  first  egg, 


224  Life  and  Immortality. 

which  is  immediately  laid,  and  which  is  followed  by  one  on 
each  consecutive  day,  until  seven  or  eight  have  been 
deposited.  As  many  as  thirty  eggs  are  sometimes  found  in 
a  single  nest,  which  is  due  to  the  polygamy  of  the  male. 
Two,  and  often  three  and  four  females,  are  taken  by  a  male, 
and  two  have  been  known  to  occupy  simultaneously  the 
same  nest. 

When  a  pair  of  birds  has  established  itself  in  a  locality 
from  the  first,  and  has  been  successful  in  rearing  a  family  of 
young  during  the  ensuing  spring,  if  the  females  are  in  the 
majority  the  unprovided  ones  still  continue,  as  a  general 
thing,  to  linger  with  the  parents  after  their  more  specially 
favored  companions  have  mated  and  moved  elsewhere.  This 
is  particularly  noticeable  in  a  new  locality  where  the  covey 
consists  entirely  of  members  of  a  single  family.  In  cases 
where  several  families  congregate  in  the  fall,  the  chances  are 
greatly  in  favor  of  monogamy.  Small  flecks  are  more 
decidedly  polygamous  than  larger  ones.  We  have  never 
observed  the  converse — that  is,  more  than  one  male  to  a 
female — but  where  several  pairs  are  found  in  the  same  field, 
at  slight  distances  from  each  other,  there  is  sometimes  a 
noticeable  tendency  to  associate. 

The  eggs  of  the  Quail  are  crystal  white,  sometimes  slightly 
tinged  with  yellow,  and  pyriform  in  shape.  Eighteen  days 
are  required  for  their  hatching.  Where  the  father  is  not 
fortunate  enough  to  possess  a  harem,  a  part  of  the  work 
devolves  upon  him,  while  the  mother  seeks  food  and  recrea- 
tion ;  but  where  there  are  several  females,  the  work  is 
divided  very  amicably  among  them,  each  sitting  about  half 
a  day  at  a  stretch,  then  calling  her  relief  with  a  low  note,  if 
there  be  only  two,  the  male  taking  no  part  in  the  labor  of 
incubation  whatever.  Should  the  family  be  larger,  two 
females  will  sit  side  by  side  on  the  eggs,  there  being  too 
many  in  number  for  one  breast  to  cover.  Meanwhile  the 
husband  remains  close  by,  chirping  encouragement  in  a  low 
tone,  and  betimes  making  the  field  vocal  with  his  loud,  clear 


Bob  White. 


225 


whistle.  He  is  exceedingly  vigilant,  and  if  a  human  being 
approaches  the  nest  gives  the  alarm  to  his  partners,  who 
secretly  withdraw  from  the  nest,  while  he,  thoughtful  hus- 
band as  he  is,  flings  himself  upon  the  ground  in  front  of  the 
intruder,  feigning  lameness  or  injury,  and  seeking  by  every 
device  known  to  him  to  attract  attention  and  pursuit,  till 
having  beguiled  the  enemy  far  away  from  his  home  he  seeks 


HOME  OF  BOB  WHITE. 
Two  Wives  on  Same  Nest. 


safety  for  himself  in  flight.  The  experienced  oologist  pays 
no  regard  to  this  deceit,  seeing  in  it  only  a  sign  of  the  near- 
ness of  the  coveted  prize,  but  patiently  continues  his  search 
until  he  has  discovered  its  whereabouts. 

Two  broods  are  invariably  raised  and  often  a  third,  but  the 
last  appearing  late   in  the  summer,  and  scarcely  attaining 


226  Life  and  Immortality. 

their  giowth  before  the  coming  of  snow.  If  unmolested,  it 
is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  species  would  increase  with 
great  rapidity,  as  shown  by  the  celerity  with  which  regions, 
where  the  birds  had  been  well  nigh  exterminated,  have  been 
replenished  when  a  period  of  quiet  for  a  season  or  two  has 
been  allowed  them.  The  young  run  about  in  a  very  lively 
manner  as  soon  as  they  have  left  the  shell,  and  in  a  few  days 
are  given  over  to  the  care  of  the  father,  whom  they  follow 
and  obey  as  readily  as  they  did  the  mother,  possibly  because 
they  do  not  recognize  the  change  of  guardians,  while  she 
returns  to  the  cares  of  rearing  another  family. 

During  the  spring  and  early  summer  both  old  and  young 
find  an  abundance  of  food  for  themselves  in  the  larvae  of 
various  insects,  the  succulent  shoots  of  growing  plants  and 
such  seeds  as  abound.  Later  on,  strawberries,  blueberries, 
huckleberries  and  other  wild  fruits  supply  their  demands. 
In  August  they  grow  fat  upon  grasshoppers,  and  as  this  is 
the  time  when  seeds  ripen,  acorns  and  beech-nuts  fall,  and 
the  stubble-fields  are  full  of  scattered  wheat,  rye,  barley  and 
maize,  and  insects  are  plentiful  upon  the  ground,  they  feast 
themselves  to  satiety  before  the  winter  begins,  until  they 
have  reached  that  delectable  plumpness  so  highly  esteemed 
by  bon  vivants.  Attaining  their  full  growth  by  the  end  of 
September,  at  least  in  the  case  of  the  earlier  broods,  the 
season  of  play  for  the  partridges  and  sport  for  the  gunner 
has  come.  Quail-shooting  is  regarded  as  a  test  of  marks- 
manship in  the  United  States.  So  rare  and  wild  have  the 
birds  become  by  reason  of  incessant  hunting,  that  it  cer- 
tainly requires  skill  and  fine  shooting  to  make  a  bag.  Bred 
in  the  open  fields,  and  feeding  early  in  the  morning  and  late 
in  the  evening,  a  man  may  beat  a  field  all  day,  and  put  up 
only  one  or  two  birds,  when  he  is  certain  that  twice  as  many 
lay  concealed,  huddled  up  in  little  knots  in  out-of-the-way 
places,  which  the  best  of  dogs  might  easily  pass  without 
discovering.  Their  inconspicuous  colors,  too,  which  are  in 
keeping  with  the  objects  around  them,  so  conceal  them  from 


Bob  White.  227 

the  vision  of  the  hunter,  that,  trusting  to  them,  they  will  sit 
immovable  until  he  has  gone  some  distance  beyond,  when 
they  will  spring  up  and  away  like  so  many  arrows,  requiring 
a  quick  eye  and  a  steady  hand  to  turn  and  drop  a  brace. 

When  ultimately  flushed,  they  fly  to  some  particular  covert, 
and  so  long  as  this  thicket  or  fern-brake  remains  undiscovered, 
will  repeatedly  repair  to  it  for  safety  and  security.  A  rather 
curious  circumstance,  which  has  created  no  little  discussion 
among  American  sportsmen,  materially  aids  their  conceal- 
ment. When  alighting,  after  being  flushed,  the  Quail  is  said 
to  give  out  no  scent  for  some  little  time.  This  is  supposed 
to  be  a  voluntary  act  of  retention  of  odor  on  the  part  of  the 
bird,  as  a  conscious  method  of  protection.  Some,  while 
admitting  the  fact,  believe  it  to  be  a  power  belonging  to 
particular  bevies,  at  least  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  to 
others,  like  the  custom  of  alighting  upon  the  branches  of 
trees  when  frightened,  while  others  restrict  the  faculty  to 
particular  individuals  rather  than  bevies.  Our  earlier  ornitholo- 
gists do  not  mention  the  retention  of  scent.  It  is  probable, 
as  claimed  by  a  few,  that  Quails'  swift  running  over  the  dry 
leaves  of  upland  woods  or  meadows  allows  little  time  and  a 
poor  surface  for  the  transmission  of  the  scent,  and  that  when 
they  drop  suddenly  and  remain  quiet  no  effluvium  escapes, 
but  which  only  becomes  disseminated  the  very  instant  they 
move. 

The  open  fields  being  smitten  by  the  wild  winds  of  Novem- 
ber, arid  the  reeds  bruised  and  broken,  the  Quail  retreats  to 
the  depths  of  the  swamp  or  the  shelter  of  a  dense  thicket, 
where  he  keeps  life  in  him  as  best  he  can  during  the  cold, 
stormy  days,  hunting  the  stubble  and  swamp  for  soft-shelled 
nuts  and  seeds,  torpid  beetles,  and  the  hard  fruits  and  seed- 
cases  of  grasses  and  weeds,  some  of  which,  the  skunk 
cabbage  for  example,  tainting  his  flesh  with  their  flavor. 
Huddled  together  the  forlorn  covey  allow  the  snow  to  cover 
them,  trusting  to  shake  it  off  on  the  return  of  the  morning, 
but  occasionally  a  crust  freezes  upon  the  surface,  and  the 


228  Life  and  Immortality. 

poor  birds  find  themselves  in  a  prison  from  which  they  can- 
not break  out  before  they  starve  to  death.  The  habit  of 
huddling  is  peculiar  to  Quails  the  whole  year  round.  They 
select  at  evening  some  spot  of  low  ground,  where  the  long 
grass  affords  shelter  and  warmth,  and  there  they  encamp, 
sleeping  in  a  circle,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  with  heads  turned 
out,  keeping  each  other  warm,  and  ready  to  escape  at  a 
moment's  warning  without  stumbling  over  one  another.  A 
suitable  roosting-place  once  found,  night  after  night  they 
repair  thither,  leaving  it  in  the  morning  before  sunrise  to 
seek  their  breakfast. 

Unless  the  winter  be  unusually  mild,  they  may  be  seen 
associating  in  the  pasture  with  the  cattle,  and  even  following 
them  home  to  glean  the  grain  that  falls  into  the  barnyard, 
and  pick  up  the  scraps  that  are  thrown  to  the  chickens. 
This  delightful  confidence  is  not  always  abused,  for  many 
persons  take  pains  to  foster  the  bevies  they  find  spend- 
ing the  winter  in  some  brushy  hillside  near  the  house 
by  daily  scattering  grain  or  clover-seed  upon  the  snow 
where  the  hungry  birds  may  come  and  get  it.  The  pert  air 
with  which  one  of  the  cocks  will  perch  himself  on  a  fence- 
rider  or  walk  sedately  along  a  stone  wall  in  the  early  sun- 
light of  a  glistening  January  morning  is  reward  enough  to 
the  benefactor,  if  he  cares  not  to  preserve  them  for  the  selfish 
pleasure  of  shooting  them  the  following  autumn. 

As  a  delicate  article  of  food  the  Quail  is  highly  esteemed, 
and  during  the  time  the  law  allows  the  markets  are  filled 
with  bunches  of  them.  Various  devices  in  the  form  of 
snares,  nets  and  traps  are  called  into  service  to  effect  their 
capture,  and  in  some  parts  of  the  country,  New  England 
especially,  fresh  importations  have  been  necessary  to  pre- 
serve a  sufficient  number  for  sport.  Bands  of  beaters  in  the 
Southern  and  Western  States  cautiously  drive  immense 
flocks  into  nets,  but  there  is  less  danger  of  exterminating 
this  than  almost  any  other  species  of  game-bird,  it  would 
seem,  .on  account  of  its  sequestered  habits  and  prolificacy. 


Bob  White.  229 

Taming  and  domestication  is  an  easy  matter  with  these 
birds.  In  all  cases,  however,  where  the  eggs  have  been 
hatched  under  a  hen  at  liberty,  the  Quail  chicks  have  run 
away  to  the  woods  as  soon  as  the  leaves  have  turned  sear  in 
the  fall  and  never  come  back.  They  sang  their  "Ah,  Bob 
White!"  just  as  clearly  before  they  had  ever  heard  one 
of  their  kin  as  any  woodland-bred  Quails  could  do.>  It  is 
quite  common  to  re-colonize  portions  of  the  Eastern  States 
when  they  have  become  depopulated,  and  an  effort  made 
some  years  ago  to  introduce  these  birds  into  the  Salt  Lake 
Valley  of  Utah  was  eminently  successful.  Within  the  past 
few  years  some  of  the  West  India  Islands  have  been  colo- 
nized, but  attempts  to  acclimatize  the  birds  in  England  and 
Ireland  Tiave  proved  most  signal  failures. 


HUFFED  GKOUSE. 


/^CONSIDERABLE  misapprehension  exists  in  relation 
V_^  to  the  popular  appellation  of  this  species.  In  some 
parts  of  the  country  it  is  dubbed  the  Partridge,  while  in 
others  it  goes  by  the  name  of  Pheasant.  It  is  neither.  All 
its  affinities  point  away  from  these  families,  in  the  direction 
of  the  True  Grouse,  of  which  it  constitutes  a  useful  and 
interesting  member.  Pheasants  are  never  found  in  the 
United  States,  but  are  indigenous  to  Southern  Asia.  Their 
nearest  representative  here  is  the  Wild  Turkey.  Almost  as 
much  may  be  said  of  the  Partridge,  a  group  of  birds  which 
are  exclusive  denizens  of  the  Old  World. 

But  now  to  our  subject.  Few  Grouse  are  so  well  known 
as  the  Ruffed  Grouse,  the  Bonasa  umbellus  of  Stephens. 
Everywhere  throughout  the  timbered  regions  of  Eastern 
North  America  it  is  more  or  less  plentiful,  ranging  from  the 
Atlantic  seaboard  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  from 
Georgia  to  Nova  Scotia.  In  all  our  Southern  States,  Louis- 
iana excepted,  these  birds  exist  to  some  extent,  and  are  also 
to  be  found  over  limited  portions  of  the  Missouri  region, 
but,  doubtless,  more  especially  about  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
and  in  the  contiguous  country.  In  the  western  parts  of  the 
region  it  is  represented  by  a  form  which  passes  with  orni- 
thologists as  a  well-defined,  genuine  variety.  It  seems  to  be 
wanting  in  California,  but  in  the  wooded  sections  of  the 
Cascade  Range,  as  well  as  in  the  valley  of  the  Willamette  in 
Oregon,  where  it  exists  under  a  new  varietal  name,  it  is  by 
no  means  an  uncommon  occupant.  In  the  New  England, 
Middle  Atlantic  and  Northern  Central  States  it  is  that  these 


Ruffed  Grouse.  231 

birds  are  to  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage,  and  in  the  greatest 
numbers.  West  of  the  Mississippi,  if  we  exclude  Eastern 
Kansas,  Southern  Iowa  and  the  whole  of  Missouri,  they 
occur,  if  at  all,  in  comparatively  small  and  isolated  parties. 

In  regions  which  these  Grouse  inhabit,  they  are  perma- 
nent residents,  and  are  never  known  to  move  southward  with 
the  retreat  of  warm  weather.  They  are  capable  of  adapting 
themselves  to  climatic  variations  with  ease,  but  not  so  readily 
to  surface  irregularities  and  their  natural  concomitants. 
Dense  woods,  craggy  mountain-sides  and  the  borders  of 
streams  are  noted  places  of  resort.  Lowlands,  especially 
such  as  are  invested  with  thick  growths  of  small  bushes 
and  tall,  rank  grasses,  are  not  infrequently  chosen.  When 
in  search  of  food  and  gravel,  they  are  known  to  quit  their 
favorite  haunts  and  betake  themselves  to  the  open  road, 
where  groups  may  be  seen  absorbed  in  feeding,  but  not  to 
that  extent,  however,  when  the  rustle  of  a  moving  leaf  or  the 
crackling  of  a  twig  would  pass  unnoticed.  The  slightest 
noise  causes  a  temporary  suspension  of  labor  and  a  moment- 
ary shudder  of  surprise.  All  of  a  sudden,  and  in  the  most 
perfect  harmony,  all'  heads  are  raised  and  pointing  in  the 
direction  whence  the  noise  emanated.  The  keen  vision  of 
these  birds  is  not  slow  in  discerning,  through  the  gloomy 
recesses,  the  presence  of  danger ;  but  should  nothing  of  an 
alarming  nature  manifest  itself,  a  short  parley  ensues  and 
business  is  resumed,  though  not  with  the  same  earnestness 
and  lack  of  care,  however,  as  before.  Greater  caution  is  now 
observable,  and  every  effort  taken  to  prevent  an  ambuscade. 
But  let  the  cause  of  the  alarm,  a  dog  or  a  man,  be  close  at 
hand,  and  the  birds  immediately  strike  for  the  cover,  either 
on  foot  or  by  means  of  flight,  the  latter  method  only  being 
adopted  in  extreme  cases,  when  the  other  course  would  be 
attended  by  disaster  and  probable  ruin.  In  the  exercise  of 
their  cursorial  powers,  they  move  with  remarkable  swiftness, 
as  with  head  depressed  and  tail  expanded  they  run  for  their 
lives.  A  pile  of  brushwood  or  an  impenetrable  jungle,  when 


232  Life  and  Immortality. 

near,  is  rendered  subservient.  There  they  manage  to  conceal 
themselves  for  a  time  and  thus  recover  breath.  Closely  pur- 
sued, and  in  danger  of  being  trampled  upon  by  the  foot  of 
the  huntsman  or  lacerated  by  the  fangs  of  his  quadrupedal 
friend,  they  await  the  opportune  moment,  when,  with  sudden 
whirring  wings,  they  cleave  the  elastic  ether  and  vigorously 
press  forward  to  some  transitory  haven  of  security,  but  only 
to  fall  once  more  in  the  way  of  their  relentless  persecutors. 
These  flights  are  so  well  timed  and  so  unexpected  that  many 
an  experienced  gunner  is  thrown  off  his  guard,  and  when, 
at  last,  he  has  recovered  from  his  surprise  and  collected  his 
thoughts,  feels  vexed  at  himself  for  allowing  his  equanimity 
to  become  unsettled  by  so  familiar  a  stratagem.  He  finds  it 
useless  to  repine,  but  endeavors  to  choke  down  the  bitter 
sigh  of  disappointment  that  arises  as  he  presses  forward  to 
further  adventures. 

Like  the  common  barnyard  fowl,  these  Grouse  are  strictly 
gregarious,  especially  during  the  autumnal  and  winter 
months.  The  flocks  they  form  vary  in  numbers,  and  when 
disturbed,  while  feeding,  scatter  in  all  directions,  each  mem- 
ber seeking  only  its  own  individual  safety  and  well-being. 
But  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  minutes,  becoming  reassured, 
they  gather  simultaneously  about  the  same  spot,  travelling 
the  entire  distance  on  foot.  The  utmost  circumspection  and 
vigilance  are  always  exercised  in  these  backward  movements. 
Scarcity  of  food  occasionally  causes  these  birds,  where  very 
numerous  in  mountainous  districts,  to  migrate  to  other 
places.  These  journeys  are  usually  undertaken  about  the 
middle  of  October,  they  then  being  in  excellent  order  and 
in  great  demand  for  the  table.  Audubon  witnessed,  in  the 
fall  of  1820,  an  immense  number  in  transitu  from  Ohio, 
Indiana  and  Illinois  to  Kentucky,  many  of  whom  became  a 
prey  to  man.  This  disposition  to  lead  a  roving,  migratory 
life  is,  as  a  general  thing,  not  hereditary,  and  consequently 
is  seldom  undertaken,  plenty  of  food  usually  being  found  in 
localities  which  these  birds  affect. 


Ruffed  Grouse.  .    233 

Where  there  is  a  paucity  of  food-materials,  such  as  acorns, 
the  seeds  of  the  beech  and  of  the  various  species  of  birch,  they 
do  not  hesitate  to  devour  the  buds  of  the  mountain  laurel, 
which  impart  a  poisonous  character  to  their  flesh.  When 
severely  hunger-pressed  they  feed  upon  dry  bark,  the  insects 
that  harbor  in  the  creviced  trunks  and  branches  of  trees,  and 
even  stray  to  the  roads  that  wander  through  their  gloomy 
retreats  and  peck  at  the  hard,  frozen  horse-droppings  they 
chance  to  encounter.  But  when  spring  returns  and  renews 
her  bond  of  faith  with  Mother  Earth,  they  more  than  make 
up  for  their  scanty  winter  fare  and  feast  with  fastidious  appe- 
tites upon  the  now  tender  and  juicy  buds  of  the  black  birch, 
which  give  a  peculiar  and  toothsome  flavor  to  their  flesh  that 
has  acquired  for  them  in  some  localities  the  name  of  Birch 
Partridge.  For  a  brief  spell  every  other  interest  is  now 
absorbed  in  that  of  unrestrained  feasting,  to  which  the  sexes 
submit  themselves  with  all  the  abandon  of  civilized  humanity. 
The  middle  of  March,  or  the  close  of  the  month  dedicated 
by  the  ancient  Romans  to  purifications  and  fastings,  when 
the  weather  is  favorable,  marks  a  change  in  their  life.  This 
era  is  announced  by  a  loud  drumming  noise,  which  is 
everywhere  heard.  Standing  upon  a  tall  rock  or  a  prostrate 
log  in  some  secluded  woods  or  other  locality,  the  author  of 
this  noise  may  be  found.  His  attitude  and  demeanor  needs 
must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated.  Once  seen,  he  can  never  be 
forgotten.  Arrayed  in  a  brand-new  spring  suit,  he  is  a 
being  not  to  be  despised.  But  this  is  not  all.  His  beauti- 
fully-contracted neck,  broad,  expanded,  fan-like  tail  and  ele- 
vated feather-tufts  that  ornament  both  sides  of  his  neck,  as 
he  struts  about  with  all  the  grace  and  dignity  of  some 
pompous  lord  or  duke,  render  him  of  no  mean  importance 
and  greatly  add  to  his  attractions. 

But  it  is  his  final  actions  that  impress  the  beholder  with 
wonder  and  admiration.  The  hitherto  trailing  wings  now 
assume  a  condition  of  rigidity,  and  commence  a  firm,  but 
slow,  downward  and  forward  movement,  which  steadily 


234  Life  and  Immortality. 

increases  in  power  and  rapidity,,  until  the  swiftly-vibrating 
wings  appear  only  as  a  semi  circular  outline  of  mist  above 
the  bird,  thus  giving  rise  to  a  sound  which  may  be  appro- 
priately likened  to  the  reverberations  of  distant,  muttering 
thunder.  These  sounds  are  most  generally  heard  during  the 
cool  hours  of  the  morning,  when  his  spirits  are  buoyant  after 
a  night  of  refreshing  slumber.  But  as  the  day  advances,  they 
are  less  frequent,  and  irregular.  So  nicely  can  they  be 
imitated,  that  many  a  bird  is  drawn  to  his  doom,  when 
advancing,  as  he  supposed,  to  meet  an  antagonist. 

As  the  drumming  is  as  often  heard  in  the  fall  as  in  the 
spring,  it  has  long  been  a  mooted  question  as  to  its  signifi- 
cancy  as  the  call-note  of  the  male  during  the  period  of 
breeding.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  correctness  of 
this  interpretation,  for  incontestable  proof  exists  of  it  in  the 
responsive  actions  of  the  female.  Nuttall  is  probably  correct 
in  ascribing  the  autumnal  exhibition  of  the  power  to  self- 
gratification,  and  in  affirming  it  to  be,  in  many  instances,  "an 
instinctive  expression  of  hilarity  and  vigor." 

Besides  the  peculiar  drumming  sound  which  the  males 
produce  during  the  love-season,  they  give  expression  to 
other  vocal  utterances  no  less  remarkable.  These  are  gener- 
ally enunciated  when  about  to  arise  from  the  ground,  and 
consist  of  two  well-defined  and  characteristic  notes.  The 
first  may  be  described  as  a  sort  of  cackle,  repeated  several 
times  in  lively  succession ;  and  the  other,  which  closely 
follows  in  its  wake,  as  a  peculiar  lisping  whistle,  which  has 
not  inaptly  been  compared  to  the  cry  of  a  young  bird.  These 
notes  doubtless  play  a  considerable  part  in  the  reconciliation 
and  bringing  together  of  the  sexes  after  their  temporary 


separation. 


While  the  courting-season  lasts,  it  is  not  an  uncommon 
occurrence  to  find  a  single  male  in  the  midst  of  several 
females  before  whom  he  is  engaged  in  showing  off  his  many 
good  qualities  and  graces,  or  two  males  displaying,  upon  the 
same  fallen  log,  the  excellent  beauties  of  their  person  and 


Ruffed  Grouse. 


235 


RUFFED  GROUSE  IN  SPRING-TIME. 
Two  Males  Displaying  Their  Graces  Before  a  Lone  Female. 


movements.  In  the  former  dilemma,  enamored  of  so  many, 
he  is  sometimes  disposed  to  be  gay  and  trifling,  dallying 
with  the  affections  of  some  pure,  simple-minded  female.  The 
most  cruel  flirtations  are  often  indulged  in.  But  when  he 
does  bring  himself  earnestly  down  to  the  business  of  choos- 
ing a  partner,  he  does  not  go  about  it  in  an  uncertain,  hesi- 
tating manner,  but  makes  his  selection  with  promptness  and 
dispatch.  The  successful  female,  proud  of  the  honor  con- 
ferred, at  the  call  of  her  lord,  forsakes  the  group  of  her 
unmarried  sisters,  and  follows  wheresoever  he  leadeth.  The 
warmest  tokens  of  affection  and  regard  are  lavished  upon  the 
elected  bride,  and  woe  to  the  rival  who  should  appear  upon 
the  scene  while  these  amours  are  being  enacted.  Should 
this  event  occur,  the  intruder  is  instantly  assailed,  and  a 


236  Life  and  Immortality. 

long  and  bloody  battle  ensues,  which  results  in  the  death  of 
one  or  other  of  the  combatants,  but  never  in  the  complete 
vanquishment  of  the  defensive  party.  Instances  are  known 
where  males  have  treated  their  first  loves  with  cruel  indiffer- 
ence, and  subsequently  deserted  them,  but  such  things  could 
not  otherwise  be,  as  will  be  seen  when  the  question  of 
polygamy  comes  to  be  considered,  for  it  is  a  fact,  not  gener- 
ally known,  that  both  birds  are  slightly  promiscuous,  the 
tendency  being  more  pronounced,  however,  upon  the  part  of 
the  male.  In  the  case  where  a  single  female  is  courted  by 
two  males,  the  successful  competitor  for  the  honor  of  her 
hand,  so  to  speak,  is  he  whose  movements  are  marked  by 
the  greatest  elegance  and  grace.  So  intense  does  the  desire 
to  please  become,  that  the  slightest  disposition  upon  the  part 
of  the  lady  to  favor  one  of  the  rivals  rather  than  the  other, 
leads  to  the  most  unhappy  consequences,  a  quarrel  being 
precipitated,  the  contestants  seeming  determined  to  settle 
the  result  by  the  gage  of  battle. 

The  time  of  mating  varies  somewhat  with  climate  and 
with  the  conditions  of  the  season.  In  the  warm,  sunny  South 
it  occurs  late  in  March  or  early  in  April.  But  further  North, 
where  winter  still  lingers  with  frosty  coldness,  the  latter 
month  is  well  nigh  verging  to  its  close,  or  gliding  into  the 
succeeding,  before  this  essential  business  is  thought  of. 
When,  however,  it  does  happen,  the  female,  with  but  little 
waste  of  time,  withdraws  from  the  society  of  her  partner, 
and  repairs  to  a  secluded  spot  in  the  midst  of  a  woods,  where, 
usually  beneath  a  clump  of  evergreen,  or  a  pile  of  brush,  or 
perhaps  a  fallen  log  or  projecting  rock,  she  hastily  scratches 
a  few  dry  leaves  together  for  a  nest.  There  she  deposits, 
one  by  one,  on  as  many  consecutive  days,  her  complement 
of  six  to  twelve  eggs,  and  immediately  enters  upon  the 
duties  of  incubation.  In  this  she  is  alone,  the  male  lending 
no  assistance,  not  even  indirectly  by  attending  to  her  demands 
for  food.  While  she  is  thus  occupied  he  seeks  the  company 
of  others  of  his  sex,  with  whom  he  remains  until  the  young 


Ruffed  Grouse.  237 

are  nearly  full-grown,  when  he  joins  the  family,  and  dwells 
with  it  until  spring.  The  period  of  incubation  ranges  from 
nineteen  to  twenty  days. 

When  first  hatched  the  young  follow  the  mother,  and  soon 
learn  to  comprehend  her  clucking  call,  as  well  as  to  act 
responsively  thereto.  Few  mothers  are  more  devoted  to 
their  children,  and  it  is  rare  to  find  one  more  courageous  and 
wily  in  their  defence.  Let  the  family  be  surprised  by  friend 
or  foe,  a  single  note  of  alarm  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  cause 
the  brood  to  scatter,  and  with  the  most  clever  adroitness  to 
hide  themselves  beneath  a  bunch  of  leaves  or  grass.  So 
successfully  is  the  concealment  accomplished,  that  a  careful 
and  protracted  search  is  often  necessary  to  discover  their 
whereabouts.  Often,  when  squatting  by  the  roadside  with 
her  brood,  the  parent  is  taken  unawares.  This  is  the  trial 
which  she  of  all  others  seems  to  dread.  To  save  her  little 
ones  she  perils  her  own  life  by  venturing  upon  an  assault. 
Her  first  impulse  is  to  fly  at  the  face  of  the  intruder,  but 
sober  thought  comes  to  her  rescue  and  teaches  her  the  folly 
of  such  a  course.  She  yields  to  the  thought  and  the  very 
next  moment  we  find  her  tumbling  over  and  over  upon  the 
ground,  apparently  in  the  deepest  distress,  but  soon  to 
recover  her  self-possession  in  time  to  carry  out  the  final  piece 
upon  the  programme,  a  ruse  in  which  lameness  is  imitated 
with  wonderful  ingenuity.  While  the  mother  is  thus  agi- 
tated, the  birdlings  are  seen  to  scamper  in  every  direction  to 
places  of  shelter.  Having  accomplished  her  part,  the  happy 
mother  now  flies  away,  and  by  her  well-known  cluck  soon 
gathers  her  brood  together.  The  cry  of  the  young  is  a 
simple  peet,  which  is  heard  repeatedly  during  feeding,  but 
only  occasionally  while  nestling.  Their  food  consists  of  the 
seeds  of  various  plants  and  berries.  While  able  to  search  for 
their  own  food,  they  derive,  however,  considerable  assistance 
from  the  mother. 

Such  cunning,  wee  creatures,  when  first  they  leave  the 
egg,  can  only  be  compared  with  the  young  of  the  domestic 


238  Life  and  Immortality. 

hen.  Dressed  in  a  simple  garb,  they  look  but  little  like 
their  parents.  Above  they  show  a  reddish-brown  or  rufous 
coloring,  which  fades  into  a  rusty-white  below.  Excepting 
a  dusky  streak  which  starts  from  the  posterior  part  of  the 
eye  and  crosses  the  auricular  regions  obliquely  downward, 
and  a  whitish  bill,  they  have  nothing  to  diversify  the  monot- 
ony of  their  plumage.  But  when  they  have  attained  the  age 
of  four  or  five  months,  they  show  their  heredity  so  plainly 
that  their  identity  cannot  be  disputed  or  mistaken. 

In  the  adult,  the  tail  is  reddish-brown  or  gray  above,  with 
narrow  bars  of  black.  Terminally,  it  is  crossed  by  a  slender 
band  of  pale  ash,  which  is  preceded  by  -a  broader  one  of 
black,  and  this  by  another  of  an  ashy  color.  The  upper 
parts  are  ochraceous-brown,  and  finely  mottled  with  grayish 
markings.  The  lower  parts  are  chiefly  white,  with  broad 
transverse  bars  of  light  brown,  which  are  mostly  hidden  from 
view  upon  the  abdomen.  Upon  the  shoulders  the  shafts  of 
the  feathers  have  pale  streaks,  which  also  exist  in  those  of 
the  wing-coverts.  The  upper  tail-coverts  and  the  wings  are 
marked  with  pale,  grayish  cordate  spots,  while  the  lower  tail- 
coverts  are  pale  ochraceous,  each  being  provided  with  a 
terminal  delta-shaped  spot  of  white,  which  is  bordered  with 
dusky.  The  neck-tufts  are  brownish-black.  The  male  meas- 
ures eighteen  inches  in  length,  and  has  a  breadth  of  wings 
of  seven  and  two-tenths  inches.  The  tail  is  about  seven 
inches  long.  The  female  is  smaller  than  the  latter,  with 
similar  colors,  but  has  less  prominent  tufts  upon  the  sides  of 
the  neck. 

The  eggs  of  this  species  are  usually  of  a  uniform  dark- 
cream  color,  but  sometimes  show  a  nearly  pure-white  ground. 
In  most  specimens  there  are  no  markings  at  all,  but  when 
they  do  occur,  are  either  quite  numerous  and  conspicuous, 
or  few  in  number,  and  obscure.  They  are  usually  ovoidal, 
but  forms  are  occasionally  met  with  which  are  nearly  spher- 
ical. Their  average  dimensions,  as  obtained  from  specimens 
from  the  most  diverse  localities,  are  about  1.64  by  1.18 


Ruffed  Grouse.  239 

inches.  As  far  as  known  the  species  never  produces  more 
than  a  single  brood  annually,  usually  nesting,  as  has  been 
previously  stated,  on  the  ground,  but  instances  are  recorded 
by  Samuels,  where  the  female  has  occupied  a  crow's  nest, 
or  the  shelter  of  some  tall  broken  trunk  of  a  tree. 


flfl  OltD  ACQOfllflTflHCE. 


LITTLE  is  known  of  the  early  history  of  the  domestic 
Turkey.  Writers  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeeth 
centuries  seem  to  have  been  ignorant  about  it,  and  to  have 
regarded  it  as  the  guinea-fowl  or  pintado  of  the  ancients,  a 
mistake  which  was  not  cleared  up  until  the  middle  of  the 
last  century.  The  name  it  now  bears,  and  which  it  received 
in  England,  where  it  is  reputed  to  have  been  introduced  in 
1541,  was  given  to  it  from  the  supposition  that  it  came  orig- 
inally from  Turkey.  As  far  back  as  1573  we  read  of  it  as 
having  been  the  Christmas  fare  of  sturdy  British  yeomanry. 

Oviedo,  a  Spanish  writer,  speaks  of  it  as  a  kind  of  peacock 
that  was  once  very  abundant  in  New  Spain,  as  Mexico  was 
called  in  his  day,  and  which  had  already,  in  1526,  been 
transported  in  a  domestic  condition  to  the  West  Indies  and 
the  Spanish  Main,  where  it  was  maintained  by  the  Christian 
settlers. 

Among  the  luxuries  possessed  by  Montezuma,  the  proud, 
dignified,  semi-cultured  monarch  of  the  Aztecs,  was  one  of 
the  most  extensive  zoological  gardens  on  record.  Repre- 
sentatives of  nearly  all  of  the  animals  of  the  country  over 
which  he  reigned,  as  well  as  others,  brought  at  great  expense 
from  long  distances,  were  to  be  found  within  its  walls. 
Turkeys,  it  is  said,  were  daily  supplied  in  large  numbers  to 
the  carnivores  of  his  menagerie. 

Respecting  the  time  when  this  bird  was  first  reclaimed  in 
Mexico  from  its  wild  state,  there  can  be  no  idea.  Probably 
it  has  been  domesticated  from  remote  antiquity.  No  doubt 
exists,  however,  as  to  its  being  reared  by  the  Mexicans  at 


An  Old  Acquaintance. 


241 


the  period  of  the  Spanish  Conquest,  and  of  its  subsequent 
introduction  into  Europe,  either  from  New  Spain,  or  from 
the  West  India  Islands,  into  which  it  had  been  previously 
carried. 

Audubon,  one  of  the  early  pioneers  of  American  orni- 
thology, supposed  our  common  barnyard  Turkey  to  have 
originated  in  the  wild  bird  so  prevalent  in  the  eastern  half  of 


MEXICAN  WILD  TURKEY. 
Ancestor  of  the  Domestic  Bird. 


our  great  country.  But  it  has  always  been  a  matter  of  sur- 
prise to  naturalists  that  the  latter  did  not  assimilate,  by  inter- 
breeding and  reversion,  more  intimately  in  color  and  habits 
to  the  domestic  form.  No  suspicion,  until  recently,  appears 
to  have  been  entertained  that  the  two  birds  might  belong  to 
different  species.  That  such  is  the  true  status  of  things, 
there  is  now  no  reasonable  doubt. 


242  Life  and  Immortality. 

Our  common  Wild  Turkey,  once  so  plentiful  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, is  now  restricted  to  the  more  eastern  and  southern  por- 
tions of  the  United  States,  while  in  the  parts  of  Texas,  New 
Mexico,  Colorado  and  Arizona  adjacent  to  the  southern 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  thence  stretching  southward  along 
the  eastern  slope  of  Mexico  as  far  as  Orizaba,  there  exists 
another  form,  essentially  different,  which,  by  way  of  distinc- 
tion, has  been  popularly  called  the  Mexican  Turkey.  It  is 
from  this  species,  and  not  from  the  other,  as  has  been  erro- 
neously supposed  and  taught,  that  the  domestic  fowl  has 
been  derived.  Even  in  this  enlightened  age,  with  so  many 
ornithological  teachers  on  every  hand,  we  see  this  mistake 
propagated  by  such  as  know  better,  and  whose  business  it  is, 
or  ought  to  be,  to  have  a  care  that  truth  shall  prevail. 

Between  the  wild  bird  of  Eastern  North  America  and  the 
Mexican  and  typical  barnyard  fowls  there  are  differences 
which  must  be  apparent  even  to  the  most  superficial  ob- 
server. The  extremities  of  the  tail-feathers,  as  well  as  the 
feathers  overlying  the  base  of  the  tail,  are  in  the  latter 
creamy  or  fulvous  white,  while  in  the  former  they  are  of  a 
decided  chestnut-brown  Color.  Other  characteristics  exist, 
but  these  only  become  evident  to  the  keen-sighted  ornithol- 
ogist. 

The  difficulty  experienced  in  establishing  a  cross  between 
our  wild  and  tame  birds,  shows  that  they  are  not  as  closely 
related  as  was  once  supposed.  Did  a  near  kinship  subsist, 
interbreeding  could  most  readily  be  accomplished.  With 
the  Mexican  Turkey,  matters  are  otherwise.  That  a  rela- 
tionship does  obtain  between  the  domestic  bird  and  the  latter 
— its  wild  original — there  can  be  no  question,  as  specimens 
of  the  naturalized  species  are  often  met  with  which  are  nearly 
the  counterpart  of  its  Mexican  progenitor,  differing  only  in 
the  greater  development  of  the  fatty  appendages  of  the  head 
and  neck,  differences  which  may  be  accounted  for  as  the 
effects  of  the  influences  to  which  the  birds  have  been  sub- 
jected .by  man.  No  well-authenticated  instances  of  similar 


An  Old  Acquaintance.  243 

reversions  to  our  once  familiar  Eastern  bird  have  been  known 
to  occur,  which  would  necessarily  have  been  the  case  had 
they  been  so  closely  related  as  was  once  maintained. 

Meleagris  Mexicana  affects  sparsely-overgrown  savannas, 
and  occupies  in  Mexico  the  region  of  the  oaks  and  the  coast 
— the  tierra  caliente  of  geographers.  It  is  a  very  wary  bird, 
and  lives  in  families.  Insects  of  divers  kinds,  but  chiefly  of 
a  coleopterous  character,  as  well  as  the  seeds  of  grasses, 
constitute  its  bill  of  fare.  When  searching  for  food,  espe- 
cially in  perilous  localities,  a  sentinel  is  stationed  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  flock,  whose  duty  it  is  to  announce  the  presence 
of  danger.  Flight  is  seldom  resorted  to  at  such  times,  for 
these  birds,  being  fleeter  of  foot  than  the  swiftest  dog,  are 
able  to  escape  their  enemies  by  running. 

Toward  the  close  of  March,  or  in  the  beginning  of  April, 
the  hens  separate  from  the  males,  and  seek  for  themselves 
nesting-places  in  secluded  localities.  The  nest  is  anything 
but  an  elaborate  affair,  consisting  of  a  few  dry  leaves  or 
grasses  scratched  into  a  depression  by  the  side  of  a  pros- 
trate log.  Here  the  eggs — twelve  beautiful,  oval,  speckled 
treasures — are  laid,  and  for  thirty  long,  weary  days  and 
nights  they  are  sat  upon  by  their  author  in  her  efforts  to 
warm  them  into  life.  When  she  leaves  them,  which  she  does 
a  short  time  each  day  for  food,  she  always  takes  the  neces- 
sary precaution  to  cover  them  with  leaves,  as  a  protection 
against  cold  and  intrusion.  Nothing  will  tempt  her  to  quit 
the  nest  when  the  young  are  about  to  be  hatched.  So  ab- 
sorbed does  she  then  become  that  she  has  been  known  to 
submit  to  capture  rather  than  endanger  the  lives  of  her  off- 
spring. 

No  human  mother  manifests  deeper  affection  for  her  chil- 
dren than  does  this  bird  of  the  prairie  for  hers.  She  fondles 
and  dries  them  after  they  have  escaped  from  their  prison- 
houses,  and  tenderly  helps  them  out  of  the  nest.  It  is  now 
that  her  cares  may  be  said  to  commence.  Where  their  in- 
terest and  well-being  are  concerned,  hardly  any  responsibility 


244  Life  and  Immortality. 

is  too  great  for  her  to  assume.  She  leads  them  into  pleas- 
ant pastures,  teaches  them  to  know  good  from  bad  foods,  and 
acquaints  them  with  all  the  devices  and  subterfuges  practised 
for  eluding  man  and  other  enemies.  But  it  is  not  long  that 
they  are  thus  subservient  to  maternal  wisdom  and  fore- 
thought, for  in  fourteen  days  they  are  old  enough  to  scratch 
for  a  living,  and  to  seek  shelter  and  security  from  lawless- 
ness and  cruelty.  Their  menu  consists  of  wheat,  berries, 
grasses,  earth-worms,  and  all  kinds  of  terrestrial  insects. 

When  summer  is  over,  the  different  families  of  the  same 
neighborhood  come  together,  unite  in  one  large  flock,  and 
travel  over  the  country  for  food.  The  males  emerge  from 
their  meeting-places  and  join  the  moving  army,  and  parents 
and  young  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  feed  vigorously  and 
grow  fat.  Late  in  October,  or  early  in  November,  they 
begin  to  attract  the  attention  of  gunners,  and  thousands  are 
killed  for  the  market,  where  they  are  in  eager  demand  by  all 
lovers  of  good  living. 


PANDION  HALI^ETUS,  as  the  Fish  Hawk  or  Osprey 
is  called  in  ornithological  language,  is  found  from  the  fur 
region  surrounding  Hudson's  Bay  to  Central  America,  and 
from  Labrador  to  Florida,  excepting  Boston  Harbor,  on  the 
Atlantic  Coast,  and  almost  from  Alaska  to  the  southern 
extremity  of  the  peninsula  of  Lower  California  on  the 
Pacific  seaboard.  Birds  have  been  known  to  nest  on  the 
rocky  islands  of  California,  and  about  Sitka,  according  to 
Bischofif,  as  well  as  along  the  small  streams  in  the  vicinity  of 
Nulato.  From  Long  Island  to  Chesapeake  they  breed  in 
vast  communities,  which  often  number  several  hundred  pairs, 
but  away  from  the  sea-coast  they  are  only  occasionally  met 
with  on  the  margins  of  rivers  and  lakes.  Dr.  Hayden  found 
several  pairs  nesting  on  the  summit  of  high  cottonwood  trees 
in  the  Wind  River  Mountains,  and  Mr.  Allen  observed  the 
birds  particularly  abundant  about  the  lakes  of  the  Upper  St. 
John's  River  in  Florida,  six  nests  being  noticeable  within  a 
single  circle  of  vision.  Salvin  claims  that  they  nest  on  both 
coasts  of  Central  America,  but  more  especially  about  Balize, 
although  on  the  islands  of  Trinidad,  St.  Croix,  Jamaica  and 
Cuba  they  are  seen  at  all  times  except  during  the  breeding- 
season. 

Below  Philadelphia,  and  in  the  south-eastern  counties  of 
Pennsylvania  bordering  on  the  Delaware,  individuals  have 
been  occasionally  observed.  Their  arrival  is  about  the 
beginning  of  March,  often  when  the  streams  which  they 
frequent  are  fettered  with  icy  bonds,  and  their  departure 
occurs  about  the  twenty-fifth  of  September,  and  frequently, 


246  Life  and  Immortality. 

especially  when  the  weather  is  remarkably  fine,  as  late  as  the 
fifteenth  of  October.  Well-established  communities,  num- 
bering more  than  fifty  pairs,  have  been  met  within  the 
swamps  of  Southern  New  Jersey,  among  whom  the  best 
order  and  most  perfect  harmony  prevailed.  Few  species  dis- 
play less  shyness  and  greater  confidence,  or  are  more  emi- 
nently social,  as  is  particularly  shown  when  these  birds  take 
up  their  quarters  in  close  proximity  to  occupied  dwellings,  or 
by  the  side  of  frequented  by-paths  and  highways.  Where 
undisturbed,  the  same  localities  are  visited  year  after  year. 
Their  exclusive  piscine  habits  secure  for  them  free  and  un- 
limited sway  in  their  carefully  chosen  abodes,  for  the  poul- 
try has  nothing  to  fear,  and  the  smaller  birds  are  not  intim- 
idated by  their  presence  and  sent  screaming  to  their  coverts 
as  they  do  even  when  pursued  by  the  little  sparrow  hawk. 
Wilson  cites  a  case  where  four  nests  of  the  common  purple 
grackle  were  built  within  the  interstices  of  an  Osprey's  nest, 
and  a  fifth  on  an  adjoining  branch,  and  the  Osprey  was  quite 
tolerant  of  such  intrusion  and  freedom.  The  writer  has  ob- 
served a  nest  of  the  grackle  built  in  a  similar  position,  while 
all  around  the  great  Hawk's  home,  and  scarcely  five  rods  dis- 
tant, were  nests  of  the  robin,  wood  thrush,  red-winged  black- 
bird and  others,  and  no  annoyance  was  known  to  occur, 
the  Ospreys  carefully  attending  to  their  own  business  and 
scarcely  noticing  their  more  humble  brethren. 

Their  bitterest  enemy  is  the  white-headed  eagle,  against 
whom  the  united  attacks  of  many  of  these  birds  are  concen- 
trated when  he  has  the  audacity  to  venture  within  their 
hunting-grounds  or  breeding-quarters,  for  they  are  too 
familiar  with  his  powerful  muscularity  and  courageous  dis- 
position to  attempt  a  single  attack.  When  an  Osprey  is 
pursued  by  this  king  of  the  forest  and  hunting-ground,  his 
loud,  vociferous  cries  of  distress,  resounding  far  and  near, 
evoke  an  army  of  defenders,  who  come  with  all  possible 
speed  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  the  great  arch-enemy  of 
their  pleasures  and  happiness.  These  attacks  are  made  for 


American  Osprey.  247 

the  purpose  of  compelling  the  Osprey  to  drop  his  prey  or 
disgorge,  which  the  superior  bird,  if  his  efforts  have  been 
successful,  pounces  down  upon  and  seizes  before  it  has  had 
time  to  reach  the  water  or  ground. 

Powerful  as  the  flight  of  the  Fish  Hawk  is,  yet  it  is  never 
very  high,  nor  much  protracted.  While  skimming  over  the 
water's  surface,  even  at  a  moderate  elevation,  his  quick  eye 


NEST  OF  AMERICAN  OSPREY. 
Manner  of  Securing  Food  for  Young. 


soon  descries  his  quarry,  and,  in  an  instant,  he  pounces  down 
with  tremendous  force  below  the  water's  level,  often  to  a 
great  distance,  but  seldom  missing  his  prey.  Arising  from 
his  watery  bath,  he  moves  off  to  a  suitable  perch  to  digest 
his  meal  at  leisure.  But  should  the  movement  attract  the 
keen  vision  of  the  bald  eagle,  who  is  generally  waiting  in 
some  secret  covert,  or  sailing  so  high  up  in  the  air  as  to  be 


248  Life  and  Immortality. 

almost  invisible,  the  Osprey  swallows  his  victim  if  small,  or 
seeks  to  bear  it  away  in  his  talons  to  a  position  of  shelter 
and  safety,  but,  rather  than  endure  the  too  near  approach  of 
his  more  powerful  relative,  drops  it  to  the  infinite  delight  and 
great  satisfaction  of  the  latter.  Where  a  suitable  tree,  or  a 
commanding  stump,  presents  itself  by  the  side  of  his  chosen 
fishing-grounds,  he  may  be  seen  perched  thereon  for  hours 
together,  gazing  into  the  liquid  depths  below  for  the  finny 
tribes  that  sport  therein,  and  ever  and  anon  swooping  down 
with  amazing  velocity  and  bearing  up  in  his  resistless  talons 
the  squirming  victim.  In  shallow  places  his  mode  of  capture 
is  regulated  in  conformity  with  their  character,  gliding  over 
their  surface  and  clutching  at  his  victims  as  they  come  within 
sight. 

The  food  of  the  Osprey  consists  mainly  of  fish,  although 
the  reptiles  and  batrachians  that  inhabit  the  swamps  and 
marshes  wherein  he  builds  do  not  escape  his  vigilance. 
Almost  all  kinds  of  fish,  except  the  very  largest,  which 
would  be  more  than  a  match  for  his  strength,  are  captured 
and  devoured  with  avidity.  We  have  watched  with  a  great 
deal  of  interest  and  pleasure  his  piscatorial  pursuits  on  the 
shores  of  Delaware  Bay,  and  have  often  seen  him  bear 
from  great  depths  fish  much  larger  than  the  common  shad. 
The  latter,  together  with  the  herring,  striped  bass  and  black 
bass,  are  favorite  articles  of  diet,  while  his  catchings  from 
fresh-water  streams,  the  larger  cyprinidonts,  cat-fish  and 
pumpkin  -seed,  are  quite  as  great  luxuries. 

When  the  nesting-time  comes  around,  the  last  of  April  or 
the  beginning  of  May,  these  birds  are  not  so  engrossed  with 
the  thoughts  of  feeding  as  to  be  utterly  oblivious  of  the 
duties  which  it  imposes.  Generally  the  same  nest  is  selected 
year  after  year,  but  when  a  new  one  is  to  be  constructed  it  is 
not  uncommon  to  find  many  pairs  engaged  in  its  building, 
the  friends  of  the  destitute  assembling  and  laboring  with  the 
most  determined  energy  till  its  completion.  A  more  soci- 
able disposition  could  hardly  be  conceived.  The  spirit  which 


American  Os prey.  249 

would  lead  these  birds  to  fly  to  the  assistance  of  a  distressed 
companion  would  certainly  induce  them  to  co-operate  with 
their  brethren  in  the  difficult  task  of  nest-building,  especially 
when  such  a  bulky  structure  as  the  species  is  known  to  con- 
struct would  severely  task  both  the  time  and  patience  of  the 
pair  which  is  to  occupy  it.  The  vast  amount  of  labor  and 
time  expended  in  rearing  such  a  fabric  is  a  sufficient  induce- 
ment for  them  not  to  want  to  indulge  in  such  employment 
any  more  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  Hence  these  nests 
are  constructed  for  durability.  Unlike  his  European  con- 
gener, whose  nest  is  placed  upon  a  high  cliff,  the  O'sprey 
almost  invariably  builds  on  trees.  All  nests  taken  by  the 
writer  have  seldom  been  at  a  greater  elevation  than  fifteen 
feet,  although  instances  have  been  recorded  where  they  were 
twice  that  height.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the  trees  sup- 
porting these  nests  are  always  dead  and  generally  placed 
in  the  midst  of  marshy  ground,  either  completely  isolated 
or  surrounded  by  a  dense  growth  of  bushes.  At  all  events, 
they  occupy  rather  conspicuous  positions.  It  is  probable 
that  the  excrement  of  the  birds  or  the  saline  character  of 
their  food  has  much  to  do  with  killing  the  nesting-trees. 
Trees  which  seem  vigorous  and  thrifty  at  first  manifest  after 
a  year's  occupancy  unmistakable  signs  of  death.  Not  always 
are  trees  selected  for  nesting  purposes,  for  a  Mr.  W.  H. 
Edwards  describes  a  nest  built  on  a  tall  cliff  on  the  banks  of 
the  Hudson  River,  not  very  far  from  West  Point. 

Externally  the  nest  is  composed  of  large  sticks  piled  to  a 
height  varying  from  two  to  five  feet,  and  measuring  fully 
three  feet  in  diameter.  Corn-stalks,  mullein-stocks  and  bark 
are  occasionally  intermingled  with  the  sticks,  but  within 
there  is  a  rather  profuse  lining  of  sea-weed  and  the  long 
grasses  which  grow  so  luxuriantly  in  salt-water  marshes. 
The  cavity  ranges  from  fourteen  to  fifteen  inches  in  diameter, 
and  is  unusually  shallow  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  nest. 

Three  eggs  constitute  the  usual  nest-complement,  although 
two  are  sometimes  laid,  and  rarely  four,  and  these  are 


250  Life  and  Immortality. 

deposited  on  consecutive  or  alternate  days,  at  the  rate  of  one 
egg  a  day.  They  measure  about  two  and  one-half  inches  in 
length  and  one  and  three-fourths  in  width/ and  are  of  a  yel- 
lowish-white color,  thickly  covered  with  large  blotches  of 
different  shades  of  brown.  Incubation  follows  close  upon 
the  last  deposit,  the  task  being  begun  by  the  female,  and 
devolving  principally  upon  her,  although  the  male  occasion- 
ally relieves  her  for  a  brief  spell  each  day.  While  she  is  on 
the  nest,  he  is  a  jealous  husband  and  a  most  faithful  provider. 
The  choicest  catch  of  his  piscatorial  exploits  is  carried 
directly  to  the  nest  and  ungrudgingly  administered  to  the 
patient  sitter.  When  not  engaged  in  providing  for  their 
wants  he  stations  himself  upon  an  adjoining  tree,  if  such 
should  happen  to  be  present,  or  somewhere  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood,  and  exercises  the  closest  surveillance  over  the 
nest  and  its  occupant.  All  attempts  at  intrusion  are  most 
summarily  punished.  Dr.  Brewer  mentions  a  case  where  a 
lad  essayed  to  reach  the  nest  in  order  to  rob  it  of  its  eggs, 
when  he  was  assailed  with  so  much  violence  that  the  male's 
talons  were  driven  through  a  cloth  cap  that  he  wore  and  laid 
bare  the  scalp.  Experience  has  proved  the  risk  incurred  in 
visiting  these  nests  with  hostile  intentions.  You  may  pass 
and  repass  underneath  the  nest,  the  authors  criticising  your 
every  movement  the  while,  without  calling  forth  the  slightest 
opposition.  When,  however,  you  attempt  to  mount  the 
tree  that  contains  their  cherished  treasures,  you  virtually 
invite  the  full  measure  of  their  wrath.  That  the  male  is 
affectionately  devoted  to  his  partner  is  shown  by  Wilson  in  a 
case  which  he  cites  of  a  female  who  was  prevented  from  fish- 
ing by  a  broken  leg  and  that  was  abundantly  supplied  with 
food  by  her  mate. 

When  the  young  appear  they  are  objects  of  more  than 
common  parental  solicitude,  the  parents  vying  with  each 
other  in  rendering  them  every  needed  attention  and  in  pro- 
viding them  with  a  plentiful  supply  of  suitable  food.  But 
one  parent  is  absent  from  the  nest  at  a  time,  the  other 


American  Os prey.  251 

remaining  at  home  to  guard  against  danger.  They  are  raven- 
ous feeders,  and  soon  attain  to  full  development,  when  they 
resemble  very  closely  in  dress  their  parents,  having  the  upper 
parts  spotted  with  pale  reddish-brown  or  white.  Adult  birds 
are  dark-brown  or  grayish-brown  above,  with  most  of  the 
head,  neck  and  under  parts  white,  the  chest  in  the  female, 
and  sometimes  in  the  male,  being  spotted  with  brown.  The 
tail,  usually  paler  than,  the  back,  has  six  or  seven  dusky  bars, 
and  is  tipped  with  white. 

That  these  birds  may  be  fitted  for  powerful  flight  they  are 
provided  with  long  and  pointed  wings,  the  second  and  third 
quills  being  the  longest.  They  have  a  stout  bill,  with  a  very 
long  hook  and  sharp  end.  Their  feathers  are  oily  to  resist 
water,  those  of  the  head  being  lengthened  and  pointed,  and  of 
the  thighs  and  a  little  of  the  front  parts  of  the  tarsi  short  and 
close  together.  The  legs,  tarsi  and  feet  are  very  strong  and 
robust,  and  the  claws  all  of  the  same  length  and  very  large 
and  sharp.  Rough  scales  completely  invest  the  tarsi,  and 
the  toes  are  padded  below  and  covered  with  numerous  hard- 
pointed  projections  to  aid  in  holding  their  slippery  prey. 
The  iris  in  some  specimens  is  reddish,  but  mostly  yellow ;  the 
bill  and  claws  blue-black,  and  the  tarsi  and  toes  grayish-blue. 
Male  birds  are  not  so  large  as  the  females,  the  latter  measur- 
ing twenty-five  inches  in  length,  and  with  an  extent  of  wings 
of  fifty-two  inches. 


TURKEY  BUZZRfl). 


FEW  species,  if  any,  have  a  wider  distribution  in  America 
than  the  Turkey  Buzzard.  It  is  found  more  or  less 
abundantly  to  the  Saskatchewan  throughout  North  America, 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  and  in  all  portions  of 
South  America  as  far  south  as  the  Strait  of  Magellan.  Indi- 
viduals have  been  met  with  in  Nova  Scotia  and  New  Bruns- 
wick, though  these  birds  are  generally  not  common  north  of 
Central  New  Jersey.  From  Eastern  Maine,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Calais,  to  Connecticut,  specimens  have  occasionally 
been  captured.  In  a  single  instance,  Mr.  Lawrence  observed 
a  small  company  of  nine  at  Rockaway,  Long  Island.  West 
of  the  Alleghenies,  from  Central  America  nearly  to  the 
Arctic  regions,  it  occurs  more  abundantly.  Without  ex- 
ception, it  is  found  in  greater  or  less  numbers  in  all  the 
Middle,  Western,  Southern  and  North-western  States.  From 
Lower  California  to  Washington,  along  the  Pacific,  numer- 
ous parties  attest  to  its  common  occurrence.  The  West 
Indies,  the  islands  of  Cuba,  Jamaica  and  Trinidad,  the  last- 
named  in  particular,  include  it  within  their  faunae.  Honduras 
and  Guatemala,  as  well  as  the  Falkland  Islands,  off  the  east- 
ern coast  of  Patagonia,  are  permanent  residing-places. 

In  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jersey,  where  the  writer  has 
had  abundant  opportunities  for  studying  the  species,  these 
Vultures  summer  quite  plentifully.  From  their  first  appear- 
ance, in  March,  large  numbers  may  be  seen  high  up  in  the 
air,  moving  in  large  circles,  apparently  exploring  the  ground 
below  for  their  favorite  articles  of  food.  In  rural  districts 
they  are,  however,  more  frequently  observed  than  in  the 


Turkey  Buzzard.  253 

vicinity  of  densely-populated  towns,  the  greater  abundance 
of  carrion  to  be  met  with  in  the  former  places  doubtless 
being  the  cause  of  this  preference.  But  in  California  and 
Oregon,  according  to  Dr.  Newberry,  they  are  quite  as  com- 
mon near  towns  as  about  the  large  rivers.  In  our  Southern 
States  they  visit  cities  and  large  villages,  and  play  the  part 
of  scavengers  in  company  with  the  black  vulture.  They  are 
said  to  be  so  tame  and  unsuspicious  in  Kingston,  Jamaica, 
that  they  roost  upon  the  house-tops  or  prey  upon  offal  in 
the  streets.  In  country  places  they  are  no  less  familiar  and 
trustful,  as  is  evidenced  while  feeding.  So  intent  upon  their 
business  are  they  at  this  time  that  the  presence  of  human 
beings  is  unnoticed,  and  even  when  forced  to  forsake  their 
booty  they  sullenly  repair  to  a  short  distance,  only  to  resume 
their  feeding  when  the  annoyance  has  passed.  The  common 
crow  has  been  observed  to  gather  around  the  same  food,  and 
the  utmost  good-feeling  prevailed.  A  small  flock  will  often 
settle  down  upon  a  dead  horse  around  which  several  dogs 
have  gathered.  The  snapping  and  snarling  of  the  dogs, 
when  they  approach  them  too  closely,  do  not  cause  the 
Vultures  to  retire,  but  only  to  step  a  few  paces  aside,  when, 
nothing  daunted,  they  continue  their  feeding,  apparently 
oblivious  of  their  whereabouts  and  surroundings. 

Although  the  sense  of  sight  is  rather  keenly  developed  in 
these  birds,  yet  that  of  smell  is  none  the  less  so.  This  is  an 
advantage,  for  both  the  visual  and  olfactory  organs  seem 
requisite  in  the  determination  of  the  presence  of  decaying 
animal  matters.  As  a  proof  that  smell  leads  to  food-detec- 
tion, Dr.  Brewer  cites  an  instance,  on  the  authority  of  Dr. 
Hill,  where  several  of  these  birds  were  attracted  to  the 
house  of  a  German  emigrant  who  was  prostrated  by  fever, 
being  drawn  by  the  strong  odor  escaping  from  his  neglected 
food  which  had  become  putrid.  Mr.  G.  C.  Taylor,  whilst  a 
resident  of  Kingston,  sufficiently  tested  their  power  of  smell. 
He  wrapped  the  carcass  of  a  bird  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and 
flung  the  parcel  into  the  summit  of  a  densely-leaved  tree, 


254  Life  and  Immortality. 

that  stood  in  close  proximity  to  his  window.  A  moment  or 
two  only  elapsed,  when  the  keen  smell  of  these  birds  scented 
something  edible,  but  they  were  unable  to  find  it,  obviously 
for  the  reason  that  it  was  hidden  from  view  by  the  envelop- 
ing paper. 

Generally  their  food  consists  of  all  kinds  of  animal  matter. 
They  are  often  accused  of  sucking  eggs,  and  also  of  eating 
the  young  of  herons,  as  well  as  those  of  other  birds.  In 
Trinidad,  they  are  said  to  live  on  friendly  terms  with  the 
poultry.  As  no  breach  of  faith  has  been  reported  to  have 
occurred  in  this  instance,  it  is  not  likely  that  they  would 
molest  in  any  way  our  smaller  birds,  at  least  we  are  not  cog- 
nizant of  any  such  cases  of  interference  from  our  own  obser- 
vation, nor  do  we  find  them  in  the  recorded  experiences  of 
friends.  They  are  worse-disposed,  it  seems  to  us,  to  their 
own  kith.  When  several  are  feeding  together,  most  violent 
wrangles  occur  over  the  booty.  Each  strives  to  get  the 
lion's  share.  It  is  amusing  to  witness  their  manoeuvres. 
Some  luckless  fellow  has  just  discovered  a  choice  and  racy 
bit,  which  he  is  endeavoring  to  make  off  with  in  a  somewhat 
hurried  manner,  when  instantly  he  is  beset  by  a  near  com- 
panion, who  has  scarcely  swallowed  his  own  morsel.  A 
conflict  ensues.  The  latter,  being  the  stronger,  succeeds 
after  a  little  in  defrauding  the  other  of  his  rightful  property. 
When  gorged,  these  birds  are  stupid  and  indisposed  to  exer- 
tion, the  period  of  digestion  ordinarily  being  passed  in  a 
motionless,  listless  attitude,  with  half-opened  wings. 

Recovered  from  their  semi-stupid  condition,  they  do  not 
at  once  go  to  feeding  again,  but  spend  a  long  time  in  the 
healthful  exercise  of  their  volant  appendages.  Few  birds 
are  more  graceful,  easy  and  dignified  while  on  the  wing. 
On  the  ground  they  may  seem  awkward,  but  it  is  while 
soaring  at  a  great  height  above  the  earth  that  they  are  seen 
in  all  their  glory.  When  prepared  for  lofty  flights,  they 
spring  from  the  ground  with  a  single  bound,  and,  after  a  few 
quick-  flappings  of  wings,  move  heavenward.  Attaining  a 


Turkey  Buzzard.  255 

great  elevation,  they  cleave  the  ether  in  ever-widening  circles, 
or  sail  on  nearly  horizontal  wings,  the  tips  being  slightly 
raised,  with  steady,  uniform  motion.  These  aerial  diversions, 
for  such  they  seem  to  be,  are  never  performed  singly,  but  in 
small  parties  of  a  dozen  or  more,  being  more  common  in 
early  spring,  and  at  the  close  of  the  breeding-season,  than  at 
any  other  time.  It  is  to  be  observed  further  that  these 
movements  are  executed  in  silence,  the  only  sounds  which 
the  Buzzards  are  capable  of  producing  being  a  kind  of  hiss, 
which  has  not  inaptly  been  compared  to  the  seething  noise 
emitted  by  plunging  a  hot  iron  in  a  vessel  of  water. 

When  ready  to  breed  these  birds  look  about  for  a  hollow 
tree,  or  some  stump  or  log  in  a  state  of  decay,  either  upon 
the  ground,  or  slightly  above  it.  Generally,  there  are  no 
indications  of  a  nest.  In  occasional  instances  a  few  rotten 
leaves,  scratched  into  the  hollow  selected  for  the  deposition 
of  the  eggs,  constitute  the  nest,  these  treasures  -being  laid 
without  any  previous  care  for  their  preservation  and  shelter 
being  taken.  In  Southern  New  Jersey  the  nest  has  been 
inadvertently  strayed  upon  in  the  midst  of  a  deep  and  almost 
impenetrable  morass,  where  it  was  found  placed  upon  a  hol- 
low stump.  Within  the  rocky  caverns  along  the  wide,  shallow 
Susquehanna,  as  many  as  a  dozen  nests  have  been  counted 
in  a  few  hundred  yards  of  space,  often  as  early  as  the  last 
week  of  March  in  favorable  seasons,  but  generally  not  till  the 
middle  of  April.  When  the  winters  are  not  extremely  rigor- 
ous, a  few  individuals  remain  in  the  vicinity  of  their  breeding- 
quarters  throughout  the  entire  year.  We  have  found  the  birds 
breeding  in  Delaware  County,  Pa.,  towards  the  latter  part  of 
April  or  the  beginning  of  May,  but  in  Philadelphia  they 
rarely  do,  if  they  breed  at  all.  In  Southern  Ohio  they  are 
a  common  summer  sojourner.  Speaking  of  the  birds  in 
Jamaica,  Mr.  Gosse  says  they  nest  in  depressions  in  the 
rocks  and  in  the  ledges  thereof,  in  retired  localities  and  also 
upon  inaccessible  cliffs.  On  Galveston  Island  Audubon 
found  the  birds  nesting  in  great  numbers,  either  under 


256  Life  and  Immortality. 

wide-spreading  cactus  branches  or  underneath  low  bushes 
in  the  midst  of  tall  grasses  in  level  saline  marshes. 

In  the  vicinity  of  Cheraw,  S.  C,  Dr.  C.  Kollock  met  with 
the  black  vulture  and  our  present  species  in  swamps  and  dense 
forests,  where  they  congregate  in  vast  numbers  throughout 
the  entire  year.  These  places  are  commonly  designated 
Buzzards'  roosts.  Audubon  once  visited  one  of  these  roosts 
in  the  vicinity  of  Charleston,  which  covered  more  than 
two  acres  of  ground,  and  which  was  completely  denuded  of 
vegetation.  On  the  banks  of  many  of  the  rivers  of  Southern 
Texas,  Mr.  Dresser  found  them  nesting  in  large  numbers, 
the  timber  along  their  borders  constituting  comfortable  and 
secure  shelter ;  but,  contrary  to  what  has  always  been  enter- 
tained, he  affirms  that  they  build  large  and  bulky  nests  of 
sticks,  which  they  place  at  great  heights  in  an  oak  or  cypress, 
close  by  the  river-banks.  Captain  C.  C.  Abbott  says  that 
in  the  Falkland  Islands  the  eggs  are  deposited  in  the  midst 
of  bushes  beneath  high  banks,  or  on  the  summits  of  decayed 
balsam  logs,  during  the  early  part  of  November.  In  certain 
localities,  where  the  birds  are  not  very  common,  paired  indi- 
viduals are  not  infrequently  found. 

Two  eggs  generally  constitute  a  nest-full,  although  instances 
are  known  where  but  a  single  egg  was  deposited.  On  the 
Falkland  Islands  they  are  said  to  lay  three  occasionally.  In 
the  West  Indies,  especially  in  the  Bahamas,  the  complement 
is  the  same  as  in  the  United  States,  and  there  does  not  seem 
to  be  any  difference  in  the  habits  of  the  birds  in  the  two 
places.  Specimens  from  New  Jersey,  Texas,  Florida  and 
South  Carolina  are  creamy-white  in  ground,  and  are  vari- 
ously marked  with  shades  of  brown,  intermingled  with 
splashes  of  lavender  and  purple,  which  are  often  so  faint  as 
to  be  perceptible  only  upon  close  examination.  Brewer 
mentions  a  variety  from  near  Cheraw,  S.  C.,  that  was  nearly 
pure  white,  and  which  showed  but  a  few  small  red  and 
slightly  purplish  lines  and  dots  about  the  larger  extremity. 
Recently  we  have  met  with  some  from  Texas  answering  the 


Turkey  Buzzard.  257 

same  description.  In  dimensions  these  eggs  vary  but  little, 
and  have,  on  the  average,  a  length  of  2.78  inches,  and  a 
width  of  2.00,  or  rather  less. 

Cathartes  aura,  as  the  Turkey  Buzzard  is  known  by  the 
scientific  naturalist,  is  far  from  being  demonstrative  in  the 
expression  of  her  feelings.  When  her  home  is  assailed,  she 
makes  no  ado,  but  quietly  slips  out,  and  seemingly  contem- 
plates its  desecration  with  indifference. 

Though  manifesting  a  passive  disposition  in  the  face  of 
human  interference,  yet  she  is  not  always  the  gentle  being 
she  would  have  us  believe,  as  shown  by  the  spirit  of  domi- 
nancy  she  displays  over  her  own  household. 

Unlike  many  of  her  neighbors,  she  does  not  entirely 
assume  the  responsibilities  of  brood-raising,  permitting  her 
partner  the  happy  enjoyment  of  a  life  of  luxurious  ease,  but, 
believing  in  the  doctrine  of  a  proper  division  of  labor,  forces 
upon  him  his  share  of  the  work. 

Whilst  she  thus  appears  unduly  exacting  towards  him,  she 
is  equally  so  to  her  offspring.  Few  mothers  know  better 
than  she  the  right  training  of  their  children,  so  as  to  fit  them 
to  become  useful  and  respectable  members  of  society. 

This  is  no  figment  of  the  imagination,  as  will  presently  be 
seen.  It  was  while  exploring  a  section  of  Delaware  County 
of  this  State  for  minerals  in  the  summer  of  1894  that  some 
interesting  facts  were  learned  of  the  relation  subsisting 
between  her  and  the  rest  of  her  family. 

Having  accidentally  strayed  upon  a  young  ground  hog 
which  had  but  recently  been  killed,  the  writer  resolved  to 
carry  it  home  and  place  it  where  it  could  be  seen  or  scented 
by  the  Buzzards,  so  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  of 
making  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  these  birds  than 
he  had  ever  before  been  able  to  make. 

Accordingly  the  dead  animal  was  transported  to  a 
meadow  overlooked  by  the  house  he  was  occupying.  The 
resolution  was  well  taken,  for  on  the  fourth  day  after  the 
deposit  had  been  made  several  Buzzards  were  seen  circling 


258  Life  and  Immortality. 

high  overhead,  mere  specks  against  the  blue  dome  of  the  sky, 
evidently  scanning  the  earth  beneath  with  their  telescopic 
vision  for  the  presence  of  food,  or  endeavoring  to  scent  it 
with  their  keen  sense  of  smell. 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  flock  drew  earthward,  till  finally, 
a  full  hour  being  spent  in  graceful  manoeuvring,  the  birds 
settled  down  upon  the  green -carpeted  meadow,  but  a  few 
yards  from  the  carrion  that  lay  festering  with  vermin. 

Their  feathers  adjusted,  and  folded  to  rest  their  wide- 
spreading  pinions,  the  young,  in  obedience  to  orders,  as  it 
seemed,  leaped  on  to  a  huge  pine  log  that  lay  near  by,  while 
the  old  folks  surveyed,  wistfully  and  long,  from  their  stand- 
point of  observation  on  the  ground,  the  odorous  carrion  a  few 
feet  away,  as  if  whetting  their  appetites  for  the  feast  they 
were  soon  to  enjoy. 

With  a  few  quick  steps,  that  were  meant  to  be  graceful, 
the  female  drew  near,  but  the  male  lingered  doubtingly  be- 
hind. In  a  trice  she  was  busy  at  work,  tearing  with  claw 
and  with  bill  the  daintiest  morsels.  Rendered  mad  by  the 
smell  of  the  food  the  male,  no  longer  seeming  backward, 
pressed  forward  to  her  side,  but  only  to  retreat  before  her 
savage  assaults.  Again  he  essayed  the  attempt,  and  was 
beaten  back  as  he  had  been  before.  Convinced  that  further 
effort  would  be  useless,  he  strode  sulkily  to  a  distance,  where, 
in  moody  contemplation,  he  nervously  awaited  her  lady- 
ship's sweet  pleasure. 

Being  filled  to  the  full  the  female  now  moved  lazily  away 
to  a  clean  patch  of  grass,  where  she  immediately  set  to  work 
to  arranging  her  toilet, — wiping  her  bill  and  her  claws  upon 
the  green  carpet  before  her,  craning  her  neck  and  stretching 
her  pinions,  yawning  and  gaping  and  gaping  and  yawning, — 
and  finally  ending  all  by  seeking  the  topmost  rail  of  a  near- 
by fence  for  rest  and  composure. 

With  nothing  to  fear,  the  male  now  stalked  complacently 
forward,  and  was  soon  hard  at  work  at  what  was  left  of  the 
carcass.  His  appetite  less  capacious  than  that  of  his  lady, 


Turkey  Buzzard. 


259 


FEMALE  TURKEY  BUZZARD  DINING. 
Male  and  Young  Awaiting  Her  Ladyship's  Pleasure. 


his  dinner  was  soon  over,  and  off  strode  he  too  to  a  fresh 
spot  of  grass,  where  he  went  through  the  same  process  of 
wiping  his  mouth  and  stretching  and  yawning,  which,  being 
finished,  he  mounted  the  rail  by  the  side  of  his  mistress. 

More  interesting  far  than  either  the  parents  were  the  three 
black  creatures  that  stood  upon  the  pine  log.  Fixed  to  the 
spot  as  though  they  had  grown  there,  with  scarcely  moving 
heads  and  downcast  eyes  they  eagerly  watched  the  food  dis- 
appearing, wondering,  mayhap,  as  children  are  prone  to  do, 
if  it  would  all  disappear  before  they  had  a  chance  of  testing 
its  virtues,  but  maintaining  their  souls  the  while  in  perfect 
serenity  of  repose.  But  their  time  had  at  length  arrived,  and 
down  from  the  log  they  cast  themselves  instanter,  three  lusty 
fellows  as  large  as  the  parents,  but  one  of  them,  from  his 


260  Life  and  Immortality. 

limping  gait,  proving  to  be  lame.  Great  consideration  was 
shown  the  disabled  one  by  the  others,  who  permitted  him  to 
feed  first,  while  they  stood  aside  until  he  had  satisfied  his 
hunger,  when,  without  the  least  bit  of  ceremony,  or  the  least 
indication  of  ill-nature  or  selfishness,  they  too  set  to  work, 
finishing  in  quick  order  whatever  edible  was  left  of  the  dead 
animal.  Their  actions  after  feeding  were  exactly  the  counter- 
part of  those  of  the  parents.  Having  finished  their  toilet, 
the  three  sought  the  rail  by  the  side  of  the  father,  where,  like 
their  illustrious  heads,  they  were  soon  occupied  with  the 
most  self-satisfying  thoughts,  utterly  oblivious,  as  it  seemed, 
of  time  and  surroundings. 

More  than  an  hour  was  thus  spent  in  drowsy  meditation, 
when,  as  by  common  consent,  they  all,  one  after  the  other, 
leaped  to  the  ground,  where  they  busied  themselves  preening 
their  feathers  and  preparing  for  departure.  The  time  being 
ripe,  the  female  set  the  example.  With  a  run  of  a  half-dozen 
yards  to  gain  a  good  start,  she  was  soon  on  the  wing,  and  in 
fifteen  minutes  or  more  was  lost  in  the  ether.  The  male  fol- 
lowed suit,  and  when  he  had  vanished  from  sight,  the  young, 
one  after  another,  mounted  the  atmosphere,  and  gradually 
circling  their  way  through  its  limitless  depths,  were  also  soon 
lost  to  the  earth-chained  beholder. 

Concluding  this  brief  chapter  of  bird-history,  we  have 
a  few  brief  comments  to  make.  To  the  uninitiated  in 
science  matters,  the  statements  just  made  must  seem  well 
nigh  incredible.  But  there  were  other  witnesses  of  the  facts, 
just  and  reliable  observers,  too,  whose  testimony  could  be 
appealed  to,  to  settle  all  doubts  of  their  authenticity.  From 
all  that  has  been  said,  it  cannot  but  be  evident  that  the  female 
was  the  acknowledged  head  of  the  family,  a  sort  of  feathered 
autocrat,  whose  will  was  the  law  by  which  the  family  was 
governed.  Even  the  male,  who  did  not  always  respect  her 
authority,  especially  where  her  interests  conflicted  with  his 
own,  was  made  to  see  that  might  makes  right  when  con- 
fronted with  her  stronger  and  more  powerful  nature.  But  it 


Turkey  Buzzard.  261 

was  the  patience  and  orderly  behavior  that  characterized  the 
nearly-grown  young,  and  their  sweetness  and  gentleness  of 
disposition  under  the  most  trying  circumstances  as  well,  that 
impressed  us  as  extremely  wonderful,  and  led  to  the  opinion 
that  man-born  offspring  might  here  learn  a  lesson  of  filial 
obedience  and  respect  that  would  greatly  redound  to  the 
honor  and  glory  of  the  race. 

When  captured,  these  birds  offer  no  active  resistance,  but 
very  effectually  warn  off  their  aggressor  by  vomiting  up  the 
half-putrid  contents  of  their  crop.  They  will  often  simulate 
death  at  such  times.  On  one  occasion  an  individual  having 
been  shot  by  Dr.  Coues  was  picked  up  for  dead.  While 
being  carried  to  the  Doctor's  tent,  it  was  perfectly  limp.  On 
reaching  his  quarters,  he  carelessly  threw  it  upon  the  ground, 
and  went  to  work  at  something  else.  After  a  little,  upon 
looking  around,  he  beheld  to  his  great  surprise  that  the  bird 
had  changed  position,  and  was  furtively  glancing  around. 
On  going  up  to  it,  its  eyes  instantly  closed,  its  body  became 
relaxed,  and  it  lay  perfectly  motionless,  and  apparently  life- 
less. After  compressing  its  chest  for  several  minutes  until 
he  fancied  life  extinct,  he  dropped  the  bird  and  repaired  to 
supper.  Upon  his  return  the  bird  was  gone,  it  evidently 
having  scrambled  into  the  bushes  as  soon  as  he  had  turned 
his  back  upon  it. 

The  young,  when  first  hatched,  are  covered  with  a  whitish 
down,  and  are  fed  upon  half-digested  matter  which  is  dis- 
gorged by  their  parents.  When  taken  from  the  nest  and 
kept  in  captivity  until  fully  grown  they  become  exceedingly 
tame,  and  will  feed  on  fresh  meat,  earthworms,  crickets,  grass- 
hoppers, and  other  large  insects,  which  they  apparently  relish, 
and  oftentimes  will  also  eat  bits  of  bread,  cake  and  particles 
of  apples  or  pears  which  are  thrown  before  them.  The 
benefits  which  these  scavengers  render  are  too  well  known 
to  need  any  comment.  In  the  mature  state  the  plumage  of 
the  Buzzard  is  brownish-black,  and  more  or  less  glossy,  the 
quills  being  paler  on  the  under  surface.  The  skin  of  the 


262  Life  and  Immortality. 

head  and  neck  is  red  and  wrinkled,  and  with  scattering 
bristle-like  feathers,  the  bill  whitish,  legs  and  feet  pinkish, 
iris  grayish-brown,  and  nostrils  large  and  oval.  Their  length 
is  about  thirty  inches,  extent  of  wing  seventy-two  inches, 
wing  being  about  twenty-five,  and  tail  twelve. 


curious  JESTS. 


FROM  time  immemorial  it  has  been  the  current  popular 
belief  that  birds  of  the  same  species  never  varied  their 
style  of  architecture,  but  constructed  the  same  form  of  nest, 
and  out  of  the  same  materials,  as  their  remotest  progenitors 
did,  instinct  being  the  principle  by  which  they  were  guided. 
This  opinion,  though  long  since  exploded  by  scientific  re- 
search, is  still,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  entertained  by  persons 
who  should  know  better.  An  examination  of  nests  from 
different  and  widely-separated  localities  affords  evidence  of 
the  most  convincing  character  of  its  erroneousness.  Most 
marked  differences  will  always  be  found  to  exist  in  compos- 
ing materials,  as  these  are  sure  to  vary  with  environment,  and 
in  a  wider  degree  in  the  nests  of  some  than  in  those  of  other 
species ;  even  configuration,  which  is  less  prone  to  change,  is 
often  influenced  by  circumstances  of  position  and  latitude. 

Among  the  Thrushes,  the  nest  of  the  Robin  is  the  most 
addicted  to  variation,  and  this  is  not  wholly  restricted  to  the 
constituents  of  its  usually  mud-plastered  domicile,  but  is 
quite  frequently  observed  to  occur  in  the  arrangement  of 
materials,  and  in  contour  and  position  as  well.  Where  low 
marshy  woods  abound  on  the  outskirts  of  towns  and  villages, 
as  is  the  case  in  Southern  New  Jersey,  nests  of  this  species 
have  been  taken  that  contrasted  in  a  most  wonderful  manner 
with  those  one  is  accustomed  to  see  in  more  northern  locali- 
ties. The  great  masses  of  grayish-green  fibrous  lichen, 
which  depend  from  shrub  and  tree  in  sylvan  marshes,  are 
most  freely  used,  and  from  its  very  nature  to  mat  when 
pressed  together  all  necessity  for  mud  is  precluded. 


264 


Life  and  Immortality. 


NEST  OF  THE  ROBIN. 
Built  Upon  a  Railroad  Cutting. 


But  the  most  curious  nest  I  have  ever  met  with  was  built 
upon  a  railroad  cutting,  where  the  ground  had  a  slope  of  more 
than  forty-five  degrees.  Such  a  position  for  a  dwelling  of 
the  kind  the  Robin  is  known  to  build,  to  one  not  conversant 
with  the  facts,  must  appear  incredible.  But  that  it  was  ac- 
complished, the  nest  itself  was  the  monument  of  the  build- 
ers' thoughtful  skill  and  labor.  A  semicircular  wall  of  mud, 
eight  inches  in  diameter  and  five  inches  in  height,  constituted 
the  groundwork,  and  within  the  cavity  thus  formed  was 
reared  a  coarse,  substantial,  bulky  fabric,  that  was  entirely 
composed  of  the  stems  of  grasses,  leaves  and  roots,  loaded 
down  and  held  in  place  by  pellets  of  mud. 

A  more  remarkable  position,  and  one  that  seemed  as  diffi- 
cult to  manage,  I  shall  now  relate.  Few  birds  care  so  little 
for  position  as  the  common  House  Wren.  Almost  any  place 


o    s 

IS 

Q    * 

;    H 


Rare  and  Curious  Nests.  265 

answers  its  purpose.  Near  the  little  town  of  Thornbury,  in 
the  State  of  Pennsylvania,  a  pair  of  these  birds,  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1882,  took  possession  of  a  derrick,  and,  as  a  site  for 
a  home,  selected  the  space  over  a  sheave  in  one  of  the  station- 
ary blocks,  where,  in  due  time,  was  deposited  their  rude,  yet 
comfortable,  nest  of  sticks  and  feathers.  A  similar  structure 
occupied  the  spot  the  previous  year,  and  a  brood  of  eight 
birds  was  raised.  It  was  not  the  elements  of  composition  of 
these  nests  that  excited  interest  and  surprise,  for  they  are 
not  materially  different  from  the  usual  form,  but  the  strange, 
anomalous  situation  which  they  occupied.  So  dexterously 
were  the  materials  arranged  within  the  space  that  the  revo- 
lution of  the  wheel  was  not  in  the  least  interfered  with.  The 
nest  was  approached  on  the  side  facing  the  rope  that 
moved  the  pulley.  The  opposite  side  could  have  been  used 
for  this  purpose,  and  doubtless  with  less  danger  to  life  or 
limb,  but  preference  seemed  to  be  shown  for  the  other. 
Why  this  was  so  was  for  some  time  a  mystery.  But  when 
the  birds  were  seen  to  alight  upon  the  rope  at  the  top  of  the 
derrick  and  ride  down  to  the  nest,  the  explanation  at  once 
became  apparent. 

Never  did  linnet  enjoy  the  rocking  twig,  or  bobolink  the 
swaying  cat-tail,  with  half  the  zest  than  did  these  eccentric 
creatures  their  ride  down  the  rope.  A  hundred  times  a  day, 
when  necessity  arose,  they  treated  themselves  to  the  pleasure, 
the  rope  all  the  while  moving  at  the  rate  of  thirty  feet  in  a 
second.  Six  of  the  seven  days,  from  early  morn  till  night, 
they  availed  themselves  of  this  strange  conveyance,  and 
never  a  danger  occurred  to  mar  their  delight.  In  due  time 
a  family  of  happy,  rollicking  children  was  raised,  and  the 
nest  on  the  derrick  deserted. 

More  beautiful  are  the  nests  which  the  Red-winged  Black- 
birds build.  These  are  the  birds  that  affect  our  swamps  and 
marshes,  and  make  the  air  ring  with  their  loud,  clear,  reso- 
nant notes.  Before  me  is  a  nest  that  surpasses  in  beauty  the 
average  structure.  It  is  a  bulky  affair  for  the  species,  but  so 


266 


Life  and  Immortality. 


RED-WINGED  BLACKBIRD'S  NEST. 
Located  in  a  Field  of  Timothy. 


symmetrical  in  contour,  and  so  quaintly,  deftly  woven,  that 
the  eye  never  tires  in  looking  at  it,  nor  the  mind  in  contem- 
plating its  wonderful  mechanism.  Broad  ribbons  of  grasses 
are  its  composing  materials,  and  eight  of  them  are  so  woven 
into  the  nest  as  to  securely  fasten  it  to  the  tall  typhas  in  the 
summit  of  which  it  was  placed. 

But  a  more  clever  nest  of  these  birds,  and  one  that  is  as 
unique  in  shape  as  it  is  in  texture  and  composition,  was  found 
in  the  summer  of  1879  in  the  vicinity  of  Philadelphia.  It  was 
built  in  a  field  of  timothy,  many  of  the  stalks  of  which  being 
wrought  into  the  fabric.  Its  shape  is  that  of  an  inverted 
cone,  and  so  beautifully,  symmetrically  and  compactly  put 
together  is  it,  that  one  could  hardly  credit  the  builders  with 


Rare  and  Curious  Nests.  267 

the  possession  of  the  skill  necessary  to  the  production  of 
so  perfect  a  domicile.  Externally  the  nest  is  formed  of 
grasses  and  rushes,  neatly  and  intricately  interwoven,  with 
here  and  there  a  head  of  the  dry  pappus  of  some  species  of 
hawkweed.  Sedges  and  fine  grasses  make  for  it  a  cosy  and 
comfortable  lining.  This  nest  shows  quite  conspicuously  in 
the  drawing,  but  in  its  natural  position,  in  the  centre  of  a 
large  field,  the  authors  had  spared  no  pains  to  have  its  con- 
cealment as  perfect  as  possible. 

Typical  nests  of  these  Blackbirds  are  somewhat  irregular 
in  outline,  and  rather  coarsely  and  rudely  built  of  stubble 
and  broad  grasses,  variously  intermingled,  and  lined  with 
soft  meadow  grass.  Usually  they  are  placed  in  clusters  of 
weeds  or  in  the  tops  of  small  bushes  alongside  of  streams  of 
water.  High  positions  are  seldom  chosen  for  nesting  pur- 
poses, as  they  offer  poor  facilities  for  food-collecting,  the 
aquatic  larvae,  may-flies,  dragon-flies  and  mosquitos,  which 
constitute  a  prominent  part  of  the  diet  of  these  birds,  being 
only  found  in  marshy  situations.  Small  bushes  along  the 
margins  of  streams,  from  the  double  advantage  which  they 
possess,  are  almost  exclusively  adopted  in  certain  localities. 
Being  convenient  to  appropriate  food-stuffs,  they  are,  at  the 
same  time,  out  of  the  reach  of  snakes,  especially  water- 
snakes,  which  have  a  decided  fondness  for  young  birds, 

Of  the  sub-family  of  Orioles,  to  which  the  Red-wing  belongs, 
no  member,  unless  it  be  the  namesake  of  Maryland's  distin- 
guished proprietor,  builds  a  more  magnificent  nest  than  the 
one  that  inhabits  the  orchard.  In  the  books  it  is  known  by 
the  no  means  euphonious  title  of  Icterus  spurius.  Its  nest 
is  shaped  like  a  pouch,  and  generally  pensile.  Soft,  flexible 
meadow  grasses,  neatly  and  compactly  woven  together, 
make  up  the  outer  fabric,  while  within  is  a  .lining  of  vegetal 
or  animal  wool,  or  one  of  fine  grasses  intermingled  with 
horse-hair.  But  the  handsomest  ever  seen  was  one  that  was 
found  in  the  vicinity  of  Nazareth,  Pa.,  by  Richard  Christ,  in 
the  summer  of  1883.  It  is  of  the  usual  size,  five  inches  in 


268 


Life  and  Immortality. 


height,  three  in  external  diameter,  but  differing  from  the 
normal  form  only  in  materials  of  composition.  The  pro- 
verbial meadow  grasses  are  absent,  and  in  lieu  thereof  are 
the  headed  stems  of  such  as  grow  by  the  roadside,  notably 
conspicuous  for  their  golden  brightness  in  a  state  of  desic- 
cation. 


DOUBLE  NEST  OF  ORCHARD  ORIOLE. 
Female  Sitting,  Male  Standing  Guard. 


More  noteworthy,  however,  than  the  Nazareth  nest,  is 
one  that  was  removed  from  a  silver  maple-tree.  It  is  a 
double  structure,  composed  of  long,  flexible  grasses,  and  is 
firmly  bound  by  the  same  to  several  small,  slender  branches. 
The  larger  nest,  inversely  sub-conical,  is  joined  to  the  smaller, 
somewhat  similarly  shaped,  but  less  compact  in  structure,  by 
ribbons  of  the  same  kind  of  grass  that  composes  the  nest. 
A  circular  opening,  one  inch  in  diameter,  is  a  noticeable 
feature  of  the  smaller.  That  the  additional  structure  served 
some  useful  purpose  there  can  be  no  doubt.  I  am  inclined 


Rare  and  Curious  Nests.  269 

to  believe  that  it  was  built  for  the  accommodation  of  either 
parent  while  the  other  was  sitting.  The  aperture  was  a  con- 
venient outlook  for  the  non-sitting  bird,  who,  from  this 
position,  could  with  little  difficulty,  like  a  sentinel  from  an 
outpost,  detect  the  approach  of  an  enemy. 

But  nothing  can  exceed  in  beauty  and  skill  the  nest  of  a 
female  Baltimore  Oriole  in  the  writer's  possession.  It  was 
built  under  peculiar  circumstances,  the  builder  being  a 
prisoner,  having  been  taken  from  home  when  quite  a  fledg- 
ling. A  male  companion  was  brought  away  at  the  same 
time.  These  birds,  the  property  of  Dr.  Detwiler,  of  Easton, 
Pa.,  in  1883,  were  a  source  of  considerable  pleasure  to  that 
elderly  gentleman  in  his  leisure  moments.  Under  his  careful, 
kindly  management,  they  became  quite  tame,  the  female 
manifesting  greater  familiarity  than  the  male.  That  either 
would  become  so  accustomed  to  confinement  as  to  evince  a 
desire  to  build  never  entered  the  mind  of  the  Doctor.  They 
had,  when  he  was  alone,  the  freedom  of  his  studio.  One 
lovely  June  morning,  the  outside  world  brimming  over  with 
life  and  joy  and  sunshine,  the  door  of  their  cage  was  thrown 
open,  and  the  Doctor  settled  himself  into  a  soft  easy-chair 
to  read.  Hardly  had  he  scanned  a  dozen  lines,  when  some- 
thing pulling  at  his  hair  caused  him  to  drop  his  paper  and 
look  around.  He  was  not  slow  to  detect  the  offender  in  the 
person  of  his  female  feathered  friend  who  was  seen  flying 
towards  the  most  distant  corner  of  the  room  with  something, 
resembling  hair,  in  her  bill.  The  reading  was  resumed,  and 
again  the  culprit  stole  cautiously  to  where  he  was  sitting, 
and,  seizing  another  hair,  was  off  in  a  twinkling. 

Permitting  for  a  while  these  liberties,  and  noticing  that 
bits  of  strings  were,  when  placed  in  positions  to  be  seen, 
quite  as  much  the  objects  of  interest  as  the  hairs  of  his  head, 
the  Doctor  was  not  slow  in  divining  the  motive  which  led  to 
this  strange  and  unexpected  behavior.  Convinced  by 
actions,  as  significant  as  words  themselves  could  be,  that  his 
little  friend  was  desirous  to  build  a  home,  he  began  to  cast 


270 


Life  and  Immortality. 


FEMALE  BALTIMORE  ORIOLE. 
Nest  the  Exclusive  Work  of  Her  Bill. 


about  for  a  corner  where  she  could  be  free  to  carry  out  her 
intentions  without  fear  or  interference.  The  attic  furnished  the 
place,  and  after  fitting  it  up  with  a  large  tree-branch  for  a  perch, 
and  plenty  of  new  white  strings  for  building  purposes,  he 
bore  his  favorite  and  her  partner  to  their  new  quarters.  Soon 
the  female  became  at  home  and  entered  into  her  voluntarily- 
imposed  labor  with  alacrity,  and  at  the  end  of  a  week  had 
constructed  a  domicile  which  her  untamed  prototypes  of  field 


Rare  and  Curious  Nests.  271 

and  roadside  would  strive  in  vain  to  excel.  But  the  male 
would  have  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  the  matter,  but  re- 
mained the  same  cold,  indifferent  being  as  I  found  him  to  be 
upon  my  first  introduction. 

Some  nests  are  curious  on  account  of  shape.  The  birds 
often,  it  would  seem,  try  their  very  best  to  see  how  oddly  they 
can  build  their  homes.  The  little  Acadian  Flycatcher,  so 
common  in  Eastern  Pennsylvania  during  the  breeding-season, 
sometimes  appears  to  be  controlled  by  cranky  ideas  with  re- 
gard to  building.  Dry  blossoms  of  the  hickory  are  the  ma- 
terials it  ordinarily  uses,  and  they  can  always  be  obtained 
whenever  needed,  but  in  a  nest  discovered  by  the  writer  in 
1882,  not  a  blossom  was  to  be  found,  but  in  place  of  them  there 
were  long,  stringy  fibres  of  the  inner  bark  of  some  species  of 
herbaceous  plant,  which  the  birds  had  modelled  into  a  com- 
pactly-built, shallow,  saucer-like  cavity,  and  from  which  they 
had  caused  to  depend  a  gradually  tapering  train  of  the  same 
for  nearly  nine  inches. 

The  King  Bird,  a  distant  relative  of  the  Flycatcher,  often 
displays  as  much  eccentricity.  Once  upon  a  time  a  pair  of 
King  Birds  took  a  fancy  to  an  old  apple-tree  that  stood  within 
a  few  yards  of  my  Germantown  home.  It  was  certainly  not 
a  place  of  quiet  and  retirement,  for  scores  of  noisy,  dirty 
children  daily  resorted  to  its  leafy  shelter  for  coolness  and 
pastime.  But  the  birds  were  not  the  least  disquieted.  They 
had  fixed  their  minds  upon  the  spot,  and  build  they  did. 
The  nest  was  posed  between  a  forked  branch,  just  out  of  the 
reach  of  the  urchins.  It  was  a  crazy  affair.  Black,  slender 
roots,  wrinkled  and  knotted  and  tendrilled,  made  up  the 
body  of  the  fabric.  As  it  was  nearing  completion,  the 
opportune  discovery  of  a  bunch  of  carpet  rags  was  hailed 
with  delight.  They  were  instantly  appropriated,  and 
promptly  adjusted  to  the  outside,  but  in  such  a  manner  that 
long  ends,  some  fourteen  inches  in  length,  were  made  to 
project  from  the  sides  and  bottom.  Whether  all  this  was 
for  ornament  or  protection,  or  for  both,  I  could  not  say,  but 


2/2 


Life  and  Immortality. 


ACADIAN  FLYCATCHERS. 
Nest  Curious  on  Account  of  Its  Train. 


I  am  inclined  to  think  that  safety  was  uppermost  in  the 
minds  of  the  builders,  for,  looking  from  below  at  the  nest  it 
seemed  but  a  mass  of  rags  that  had  been  thrown  into  a  tree- 
crotch,  which,  the  birds  perceiving,  and  its  close  resemblance 
to  an  entangled  bunch,  had  utilized. 

Certainly  no  more  beautiful  nests  in  shape  exist  than  the 
spherical  in  form.  The  Long-billed  Marsh  Wren  builds  a  nest 
of  this  type.  Upon  its  arrival  in  the  spring  it  seeks  the 
inland  swamps,  or  the  brackish  marshes  of  the  sea-shore, 
where,  amid  the  splatterdocks  of  the  former  and  reeds  of 
the  latter,  it  finds  suitable  shelter  and  protection.  There,  day 


Copyright  1900  by  A.  R.  DUGMORE. 

I<ONG    BIIylvED    MARSH  WREN'S  NEST 


Rare  and  Curious  Nests.  273 

in  and  day  out,  during  its  entire  summer  stay,  it  pursues  the 
even  tenor  of  its  life,  happy  and  contented,  never  caring,  like 
many  of  its  remoter  kin,  for  the  charmed  circle  of  man. 
Active,  energetic  and  buoyant  with  hope,  it  skips  about  the 
tall  rank  herbage,  in  every  direction,  in  quest  of  insects, 
making  its  presence  known  and  felt  by  the  lively  chattering 
song,  which  resembles  more  nearly  the  sounds  of  an  insect 
than  those  of  a  bird,  which  emanates  from  its  grassy  haunts. 
As  these  birds  reach  their  breeding-grounds  early  in  May, 
nest-building  is  soon  begun,  but  so  secret  and  mysterious 
are  their  movements  at  first,  that  we  hardly  know  anything 
of  their  presence,  except  when  they  are  colonized  for  the 
summer.  The  labor  of  building  is  entered  into  with  con- 
siderable alacrity,  and  is  mainly  the  result  of  the  combined 
labor  of  both  birds.  Their  nests  are  usually  placed  in  low 
bushes,  a  few  feet  above  the  ground,  or  woven  into  the  tops 
of  sedges  out  of  the  reach  of  ordinary  tides ;  but  in  very 
rare  instances  upon  the  ground  in  the  midst  of  a  clump  of 
grasses.  Ground  nests  are  loosely-constructed  affairs,  which 
is  not  the  case  with  those  that  are  elevated  to  the  tops  of 
tussocks,  or  to  the  branches  of  shrubs  and  trees,  which 
require  more  compactness  and  a  better  finish.  The  most 
beautiful,  as  well  as  artistic,  nest  which  I  have  ever  seen  is 
the  one  shown  in  the  cut.  This  nest  was  discovered  in 
the  vicinity  of  Philadelphia  in  the  summer  of  1878.  A 
willow-branch,  some  fifteen  feet  above  the  ground,  which 
was  bifurcated,  was  made  to  do  service.  No  ordinary  skill 
was  that  which  surmounted  the  seemingly  insuperable 
difficulty  of  building  a  nest,  not  pensile  in  character,  to 
such  a  swaying  branch.  That  the  birds  accomplished  the 
feat  the  nest  itself  was  the  evidence.  In  form  this  nest 
was  nearly  globular,  four  and  a  half  and  five  inches  in  the 
two  diameters.  It  was  woven  of  the  broad  leaves  of  a 
species  of  scirpus,  closely  and  evenly,  and  had  its  inter- 
stices well  seamed  with  brownish  cottony  down.  A  thin 
delicate  curtain  of  gauze,  of  the  same  material,  hung  around 


274 


Life  and  Immortality. 


LONG-BILLED  MARSH  WRENS. 
Nest  Placed  Out  of  the  Reach  of  Tides. 


the  opening,  and  this  was  continued  within,  forming  a  thick 
bedding  of  the  softest,  fluffiest  nature,  of  which  the  most 
voluptuous  sybarite  might  envy  its  fortunate  possessor. 

But  the  little  Golden-crowned  Kinglet,  a  mere  mite  of  flesh 
and  feathers,  but  with  a  great  deal  of  spirit,  builds  a  much 
handsomer  nest.  It  is  the  perfection  of  symmetry.  Man 
could  not  make  with  all  the  applicances  at  his  command  any 
thing  more  nearly  globular.  But  its  beauty !  It  looks  like 
a  ball  of  green  moss,  the  delicate  patches  of  moss  being  so 
artfully  arranged  as  to  completely  hide  the  dry  stems  of 
grasses  that  constitute  the  walls.  No  moss  ever  spread  itself 
over  the  ground,  or  over  a  stump  or  tree-trunk,  more  evenly. 
When  it  is  known  that  this  Kinglet  builds  its  nest  among  the 
slender  feathered  branches  of  the  hemlock  spruce,  there  is 
manifestly  a  reason  for  the  fern-like  tracery  upon  the  exterior, 


Rare  and  Curioiis  Nests. 


275 


so  necessary  for  the  preservation  of  its  home.  Such  a 
handsome  and  imposing  structure  would  be  far  from  complete 
were  the  inside  not  in  keeping  with  the  outside.  But  the 
birds  have  left  nothing  to  be  desired  in  this  particular.  The 
softest  and  purest  of  down  lines  the  little  bed-chamber,  and 
even  swells  in  its  lightness  till  ready  to  overflow  the  neat 
circular  door- way. 


GOLDEN-CROWNED  KINGLETS. 

Nest  the  Perfection  of  Beauty  and  Symmetry. 


Perhaps  the  most  graceful  thing  you  may  ever  expect  to 
find  when  on  the  quest,  fitted  to  be  considered  the  work  of 
the  fairies,  is  the  pretty  lace  hammock  of  the  Parula  Warbler. 
You  must  search  for  it  early  in  June,  in  remote  but  thin 
woods,  but  never  far  from  running  water.  Often  you  will 
see  it  upon  a  branch  overhanging  a  stream.  The  slender 
twig  of  a  birch  is  sometimes  chosen  for  its  suspension,  the 
terminal  spray  of  a  hemlock  spruce,  or  a  horizontal  branch 
of  a  white  oak.  Like  a  watch-pocket,  with  the  opening  in 


2/6 


Life  and  Immortality. 


the  side,  it  is  lightly  suspended.  It  is  made  of  a  delicate  lace- 
work,  the  grayish-green  usnea  moss,  that  grows  on  old  trees. 
The  whole  fabric  is  the  work  of  two  little  birds  with  slate- 
blue  backs  and  yellow  breasts.  No  other  bird  of  our  fauna 
builds  a  nest  akin  to  its  swinging,  eery  nest.  It  is  true  much 
of  the  material  is  found  in  position  when  the  builders  com- 
mence their  labor,  but  the  exquisite  outline  and  finish,  as 
well  as  the  cozy  interior,  are  due  to  the  skill  of  the  birds 


LACE  HAMMOCK  OF  PARULA  WARBLER. 
Female  Entering  Nest  and  Male  Adding  to  Its  Adornments. 


themselves.  Even  when  the  structure  is  just  so  far  com- 
pleted that  occupancy  by  the  female  is  possible,  the  male 
never  wearies  of  its  adornment  by  additional  filaments  of 
usnea  brought  from  a  distance.  He  is  the  happiest  of  fellows, 


Rare  and  Curious  Nests.  277 

for  his  little  beak   always   finds  something  to  do  while  his 
patient  wife  is  busy  with  the  duties  that  lead  to  maternity. 

Coming  like  whirling  leaves,  half  autumn  yellow,  half 
green  of  spring,  their  colors  blending  like  the  outer  petals 
of  grass-green  daffodils,  no  more  sociable  and  confiding  little 
creatures  are  to  be  found  in  our  midst  than  the  Yellow  War- 
blers. They  are  as  much  at  home  in  the  trees  by  the  house 
as  in  the  fields  and  woods.  Wherever  they  wander,  the 
glints  of  sunshine  that  flash  from  their  backs  should  make 
the  most  miserable  complainer  feel  the  summer's  charm. 
But  in  spite  of  their  seeming  preference  for  man,  they  are 
prone  to  build  in  lonely  fields  and  by-ways.  In  such  places 
it  becomes  one  of  the  especial  victims  which  the  Cow  Bird 
selects  to  foster  its  random  eggs.  But  the  Warbler  puts  its 
intelligence  effectively  to  work,  and  builds  a  second  story 
to  its  nest,  thus  flooring  over  the  unwelcome  eggs.  This 
expedient  is  repeated  as  long  as  the  Cow  Bird  continues  her 
mischief,  until  sometimes  a  three-story  nest  is  achieved.  The 
outside  of  the  nest,  composed  of  glistening  milkweed  flax, 
is  pressed  into  a  felt-like  case,  the  fibres  serving  at  the  same 
time  to  lash  the  nest  to  its  support.  Within,  to  the  depth  of  an 
inch,  is  a  soft  sponge-like  material,  which  the  birds  have 
made  from  the  wool  they  have  gathered  from  the  stems  of 
young  ferns.  A  few  horse-hairs,  to  give  shape  and  stability 
to  the  nest,  are  to  be  found  in  the  inside  of  the  felt-like 
lining. 

Hundreds  of  nests,  quite  as  novel  as  any  that  have  been 
described,  might  be  instanced,  showing  varieties  from  so- 
called  normal  forms,  but  I  shall  content  myself  with  only 
another  example.  Everyone  is  familiar  with  the  Ruby- 
throated  Humming  Bird,  so  common  in  the  eastern  half  of 
the  United  States.  It  is  the  smallest  of  all  our  birds.  But 
its  nest,  which  is  by  no  means  scarce,  is  a  rare  sight  to  the 
average  man  and  woman.  No  nest  can  be  compared  with  it. 
It  is  a  thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy  forever.  A  mass  of  cotton, 
with  a  hole  in  the  top,  and  thatched  all  round  with  blue-gray 


278  Life  and  Immortality. 


THREE-STORY  NEST  OF  YELLOW  WARBLER. 
Showing  the  Builder's  Manner  of  Out-witting  the  Cow  Bird. 

lichens,  and  just  as  big  as  a  walnut,  conveys  a  good  idea  of 
its  appearance.  But  all  nests  are  not  made  of  cotton.  The 
yellow  wool  that  forms  the  dress  of  the  undeveloped  fern- 
frond,  or  the  red  shoddy  that  is  wind-swept  into  heaps  outside 
some  woollen  factory,  is  often  made  to  take  the  place  of  the 
down  of  the  seed  of  the  poplar.  Not  to  be  mentioned  in 
the  same  breath  with  these,  is  the  nest  I  am  now  about  to 
describe.  It  was  saddled  upon  the  horizontal  bough  of  a 
small  white  oak-tree  that  grew  on  the  side  of  a  thicket,  and 
was  peculiar  from  the  nature  of  the  material  that  composed 
its  inner  fabric.  This  substance  resembled  burnt  umber  in 
color,  and  was  as  soft  as  the  finest  wool,  or  the  fluffiest  down, 
and  proved,  upon  examination,  to  be  the  mycelium  of  a 
fungus  which  the  builders  had  gathered  from  decaying  stumps 
or  mildewing  tree-branch. 


SOMEWHAT  widely  distributed  throughout  temperate 
North  America,  but  nowhere  very  abundant,  is  the 
little  Acadian  Owl,  or  Saw-whet  Owl,  as  he  is  popularly 
designated.  In  Eastern  Pennsylvania  he  seems  notably  scarce, 
but  this  may  be  attributed  to  his  pre-eminently  nocturnal 
and  secluded  habits.  Being  a  denizen  of  dense  pine  forests, 
and  only  venturing  abroad  in  quest  of  food  at  the  close  of 
the  day,  his  presence  and  numbers  remain  to  many  a 
mystery.  Hollow  trees,  and  the  dark  caverns  of  rocks,  are 
his  natural  retreats,  and  as  these  are  to  be  met  with  largely 
in  densely-timbered  regions  and  sequestered  localities,  he  is 
seldom,  if  ever,  seen  in  close  proximity  to  human  habita- 
tions. He  seemingly  shuns  rather  than  courts  the  society 
of  man.  When  routed  from  his  burrow  in  the  broad  glare 
of  day  he  becomes  very  much  bewildered,  and  is  scarcely 
able  to  escape  the  approach  of  danger. 

The  common  appellation  of  Saw-whet  Owl,  which  is 
applied  to  the  species,  owes  its  origin  to  the  close  resem- 
blance which  the  notes  of  the  bird  bear  to  the  noise  produced 
by  the  filing  of  a  saw.  These  notes  are  so  deceptive,  that 
persons  unacquainted  with  their  source  have  fancied  them- 
selves in  the  vicinity  of  a  saw-mill,  or  in  near  presence  to  a 
woodman  occupied  in  whetting  a  saw.  Audubon,  hearing 
these  notes  in  a  thicket  for  the  first  time,  was  thus  deceived. 
The  same  distinguished  writer  gives,  on  the  authority  of  Mr. 
McCullock,  an  interesting  description  not  only  of  the  notes 
of  this  Owl,  but  also  of  his  remarkable  powers  of  ventril- 
oquism. On  a  certain  occasion  his  informant  was  aroused 


280  Life  and  Immortality. 

by  what  appeared  to  be  the  feeble  tones  of  a  distant  bell. 
But  in  nearing  the  spot  whence  the  sounds  emanated,  they 
apparently  shifted  from  point  to  point,  being  heard  at  one 
time  close  by,  and  at  the  next  moment  in  the  distance,  now  on 
the  left,  then  on  the  right,  and  as  often  in  the  rear  as  in  the 
front.  Finally  the  author  of  these  sounds  was  discovered  at 
the  entrance  of  his  burrow  in  a  birch-tree.  Stationing  him- 
self at  the  base  of  the  tree  in  full  view  of  the  bird  who 
was  calling  to  his  partner,  Mr.  McCullock  had  a  splendid 
opportunity  of  observing  an  exhibition  of  his  singular  and 
exceptional  ventriloquial  powers. 

Smooth,  gliding  and  noiseless  is  the  flight  of  this  Owl, 
and  but  slightly  elevated  and  protracted.  When  seeking 
for  food  he  may  be  seen  sailing  over  low  meadows  in  the 
neighborhood  of  his  accustomed  haunts,  or,  perched  upon  a 
stump  or  fence-rail  adjoining  thereto,  quietly  gazing  in  every 
direction  for  whatever  of  life  may  chance  to  manifest  itself, 
which  he  seizes  with  remarkable  adroitness,  even  sometimes 
venturing  to  assail  prey  larger  than  himself.  The  smaller 
birds,  awakened  from  their  perch  by  his  cries,  fall  ready  vic- 
tims to  his  rapacity. 

Hollow  trees,  or  the  deserted  nests  of  other  species,  are 
selected  for  breeding-quarters.  The  eggs,  varying  from  four 
to  six  in  number,  are  pure  white,  sub-spherical,  of  crystalline 
clearness,  and  measure  one  and  one-eighth  by  one  and  seven- 
eighths  inches.  The  food  of  this  interesting  little  Owl, 
which  is  not  so  large  as  a  robin,  though  appearing  bulkier, 
consists  of  small  quadrupeds  and  birds,  but  chiefly  of 
various  species  of  insects. 

When  taken  quite  young,  and  held  in  confinement,  this 
Owl  becomes  quite  tame,  permitting  strangers  as  well  as  his 
keeper  to  handle  him  with  the  utmost  freedom,  without  so 
much  as  resenting  such  familiarity.  But  a  greater  attach- 
ment is  manifested  towards  the  master  whom  he  is  able  to 
recognize  by  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  in  whose  presence 
he  is  peculiarly  fascinating  and  agreeable. 


Strange 'Friendship.  281 

Like  Scops  asio — the  Red  Owl — he  leads  a  solitary  exist- 
ence, save  on  the  approach  of  warm  weather,  when  the  sexes 
are  discovered  together,  or  are  heard  calling  one  to  the  other. 
Mating  commences  early  in  April,  and  about  the  middle  of 
the  month  the  birds  have  located  their  nests  in  the  hollow  of 
a  tree,  about  twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  where  the  female 
lays  her  complement  of  eggs.  The  entrance  to  the  hole  is 
very  small,  scarcely  two  inches  in  diameter.  Upon  the 
female  devolves  the  whole  work  of  incubation,  although  the 
male  takes  a  hand  in  raising  the  young.  The  latter  leave 
the  nest  about  the  first  week  of  May,  and  when  disturbed 
make  a  noise  that  sounds  like  a  dog  sniffling  the  air,  which, 
when  heard,  especially  at  night  in  heavy  timber,  is  quite 
certain  to  startle  one  and  make  him  fancy  a  bear  or  some 
such  animal  up  a  tree  near  by. 

Some  years  ago  there  lived  in  the  hollow  of  an  oak  tree, 
not  far  from  Germantown,  a  common  Chickaree  Squirrel — 
Sciurus  Hudsonius — with  this  little  Owl  as  his  sole  com- 
panion. This  association  reminded  me  of  the  connection 
of  the  burrowing  owl  of  the  West  with  the  singular  settle- 
ments of  the  prairie  dog,  the  life-relations  of  the  two  creatures 
being  really  intimate  in  very  many  localities,  although  the 
owls  are  simply  attracted  to  the  villages  of  the  prairie-dogs 
as  the  most  suitable  places  for  shelter  and  nidification,  where 
they  find  eligible  ready-made  burrows  and  are  saved  the 
trouble  of  digging  for  themselves.  Community  of  interest 
makes  them  gregarious  to  an  extent  unusual  among  rapa- 
cious birds,  while  the  exigencies  of  life  on  the  plains  cast 
their  lot  with  the  rodents.  That  the  owls  live  at  ease  in 
the  settlements,  and  on  familiar  terms  with  their  four-footed 
neighbors,  is  an  undoubted  fact,  but  that  they  have  any 
intimate  domestic  relations  is  open  to  question.  That  the 
quadruped  and  the  birds  are  often  seen  to  scuttle  at  each 
other's  heels  into  the  same  hole  when  alarmed  is  no  proof 
that  they  live  together,  for  in  such  a  case  the  two  merely 
seek  the  nearest  shelter,  independently  of  each  other.  In  the 


282 


Life  and  Immortality. 


SAW-WHET  OWL  AND  CHICKAREE  SQUIRREL. 
Living  Together  in  Perfect  Harmony  and  Mutual  Good-will. 


larger  settlements  there  are  thousands  upon  thousands  of 
burrows,  many  of  them  occupied  by  the  dogs,  but  more, 
perhaps,  vacant.  These  latter  are  the  homes  of  the  owls. 
It  is  possible  that  the  respective  retreats  of  a  dog  and  an  owl 
may  have  one  common  vestibule,  but  this  does  not  imply 
that  they  nest  together.  There  are  fewest  owls  in  the  towns 
most  densely  populated  by  the  dogs  and  the  greatest  number 
in  the  deserted  villages,  and  this  is  strong  evidence  in  point. 
But  the  owls  are  by  no  means  confined  to  the  dog-towns,  nor 
even  to  the  similar  communities  of  other  gregarious  sper- 
mophiles.  They  sometimes  occupy  the  underground  dens 


Strange  Friendship.  283 

of  wolves,  foxes  and  badgers.  When  the  subject  has  been 
carefully  investigated,  the  owls  never  appear  to  enter  the 
same  hole  or  burrow  with  a  squirrel,  and  a  squirrel  is  never 
seen  to  enter  a  burrow  that  was  occupied  by  owls,  however 
strongly  he  may  be  tempted  by  fear  to  enter  the  first  hole 
he  should  come  to.  The  spermophile  never  likes  to  enter 
any  burrow  but  his  own,  and  has  been  known  to  run  past 
any  number  of  inviting  entrances  in  order  that  he  may  hide 
himself  in  his  own  domicile. 

In  the  case  of  the  Chickaree  Squirrel  and  the  Saw-whet 
Owl,  they  occupied  the  same  hole  together  in  perfect  har- 
mony and  mutual  good-will.  It  was  not  an  accidental  occur- 
rence, the  Squirrel  merely  seeking  the  cavity  to  escape  a 
danger  that  impended,  for  the  bird  and  the  Squirrel  had  been 
repeatedly  observed  to  enter  the  hole  together,  and  in  the 
most  amicable  manner  possible,  as  though  they  had  always 
shared  the  apartment.  Ordinarily  the  Chickaree  is  a  very 
pugnacious  creature,  attacking  with  the  greatest  fierceness 
the  gray  and  black  squirrel  whenever  they  had  the  temerity 
to  cross  his  path.  He  seems  to  be  ever  bent  upon  blood. 
Though  strictly  by  nature  a  rodent,  subsisting  principally 
upon  nuts  and  the  bark  of  trees,  which  his  powerful  incisors 
enable  him  to  manipulate  effectively,  yet  he  has  not  always 
remained  true  to  his  instincts,  for  he  has  been  frequently 
detected  in  eating  the  eggs  of  birds,  and  also  in  the  seizure 
of  the  feathered  denizens  of  our  lawns  and  woods,  which  he 
will  capture  with  all  the  skill  of  the  blood-thirsty  weasel. 
His  method  of  operation  is  peculiar.  He  will  lie  in  wait, 
concealed  from  view  by  the  dense  foliage  of  the  trees  which 
he  is  wont  to  affect  when  in  quest  of  game,  and  when  some 
unsuspecting  bird  hovers  near  pounces  upon  it  with  unerring 
precision,  and  effecting  its  capture  proceeds  to  suck,  sitting 
up  in  true  squirrel  fashion,  the'  life-sustaining  fluid  through 
a  wound  inflicted  in  the  side  of  the  neck.  Having  satiated 
his  thirst,  which  may  have  been  the  prime  object  of  the  capt- 
ure, the  dead  body  of  the  bird  is  dropped,  and  the  little 


284  Life  and  Immortality. 

monster,  upon    erect    haunches,  poses,  the   embodiment  of 
perfect  contentment. 

But  in  the  case  of  the  Owl  it  was  otherwise,  Perhaps  it 
was  too  large  for  the  monster  to  attack,  or,  knowing  from 
rumor  of  gossiping  friends  the  reputation  of  the  former  for 
cruelty  and  murder,  a  conciliatory  spirit  was  thought  the  best 
to  adopt.  No  one  knows  the  bitter  character  of  the  first 
interview,  or  whether  a  liking  for  each  other  sprang  up  from 
the  beginning.  Be  this  as  it  may,  there  can  be  no  denying 
the  fact  that  a  friendship  was  cemented  between  the  two 
animals,  widely  divergent  in  structural  peculiarities  as  they  are 
known  to  be,  that  gave  hope  of  becoming  long  and  enduring. 


'S  LITTLE  STORE-KEEPER 


ONE  of  the  most  familiar  of  North  American  quadrupeds 
is  the  Hackee,  or  Chipping  Squirrel,  as  he  is  some- 
times termed,  from  the  strange,  quaint  utterances  which  he 
emits  while  rollicking  with  his  fellows  or  in  quest  of  some- 
thing to  eat.  He  is  a  beautiful  little  creature,  notable  alike 
for  the  dainty  elegance  of  his  form  and  for  the  pleasing  tints 
with  which  his  dress  is  arrayed.  His  general  color  is 
brownish-gray  upon  the  back,  warming  into  orange-brown 
upon  the  forehead  and  hinder  quarters.  Five  longitudinal 
black  stripes  and  two  streaks  of  yellowish-white  adorn  the 
dorsum  and  sides,  which  render  him  a  most  conspicuous 
being  and  one  readily  distinguishable  from  any  other  animal. 
His  abdomen  and  throat  are  white.  He  is  slightly  variable 
in  color  according  to  locality,  and  has  been  known  to  be 
so  capricious  of  hue  as  to  become  a  pure  white  or  a  jetty 
black.  But  for  the  commonness  of  the  species,  which  is 
found  in  great  numbers  in  almost  every  place,  his  fur,  from 
its  extreme  beauty,  would  long  since  have  taken  nearly  as 
high  rank  as  sable  or  ermine. 

No  quadruped  is  so  brisk  or  so  lively.  His  quick,  rapid 
movements  have  not  inaptly  compared  him  to  the  wren. 
As  he  whisks  about  the  branches  of  the  brushwood  and  small 
timber  among  which  he  is  chiefly  met,  or  shoots  through  their 
interstices  with  his  peculiar  jerking  movements,  and  his  odd 
clicking  cry,  like  the  chip-chipping  of  newly-hatched  chickens, 
the  analogy  between  himself  and  the  bird  is  strikingly  appar- 
ent. Occurring  in  great  plenty,  and  being  a  bold  little 
creature,  he  is  much  persecuted  by  small  boys,  who,  with 


286  Life  and  Immortality. 

long  sticks,  and  well-directed  blows,  manage  to  fell  to  the 
earth  many  a  luckless  fellow  as  he  endeavors  to  escape  his 
pursuers  by  running  along  the  rail  fences. 

Hackees  delight  in  sequestered  localities.  There  they  tun- 
nel their  homes,  preferring  some  old  tree,  or  a  spot  of  earth 
sheltered  by  a  wall  or  a  bank.  Their  burrows  are  rather 
complicated  affairs,  running  often  to  great  lengths,  so  that 
the  task  of  digging  the  animal  out  of  his  retreat  becomes 
one  of  no  easy  accomplishment.  Sandy  patches  of  ground, 
on  the  outskirts  of  a  woods,  are  not  unusually  chosen  for 
burrows.  A  hole,  almost  perpendicular,  is  drilled  into  the 
earth  to  a  depth  of  three  feet,  and  is  thence  continued  with 
one  or  more  windings,  rising  a  little  nearer  the  surface  until 
it  has  advanced  some  nine  or  ten  feet,  when  it  is  made  to 
terminate  in  a  large  circular  nest,  made  of  oak  leaves  and 
dried  grasses.  Small  lateral  galleries  branch  off  from  the 
main  burrow,  in  which  these  provident  little  creatures  lay  up 
their  winter's  provisions.  Wheat,  Indian  corn,  buckwheat, 
hazel-nuts,  acorns  and  the  seeds  of  grasses  have  been  found 
in  their  underground  receptacles,  a  proof,  were  further  evi- 
dence lacking,  that  they  do  not  pass  the  cold  famine  months 
in  a  sluggish  and  benumbed  condition.  Several  layers  of 
leaves,  aggregating  nine  inches  in  thickness,  are  often  found 
over  the  entrance,  as  a  protection  from  frosts,  which  are 
further  prevented  from  intrusion  by  the  sealing  up  of  the 
mouth  from  within. 

Everything  is  done  by  the  Hackee  in  a  business-like 
manner.  In  gathering  his  food,  lest  the  sharp  beak  of  the 
nut  may  injure  his  cheeks  when  he  places  the  fruit  in  his 
pouch,  he  nips  off  the  point,  and  then  by  the  aid  of  his  fore- 
paws  deliberately  pushes  the  nut  into  one  of  his  pouches. 
Another  and  another  are  similarly  treated,  and  taking  a 
fourth  between  his  teeth,  he  dives  into  his  burrow,  and,  having 
packed  them  methodically  away,  returns  to  the  surface  for  a 
fresh  cargo.  Four  nuts  are  his  load  at  each  journey.  With 
his  cheek-pouches  distended  to  their  fullest  capacity,  and 


Copyright  1900  by  A.  R.  DUGMORE. 


Nature's  Little  Store-keeper. 


287 


laboring  most  truly  under  an  embarrassment  of  riches,  the 
little  fellow  presents  a  most  ludicrous  appearance. 


HACKEE,  OR  CHIPPING  SQUIRREL. 
Laying  up  Food  for  the  Famine  of  Winter. 


When  menaced  by  foes,  by  which  so  defenceless  and  con- 
spicuous an  animal  is  sure  to  be  surrounded  in  great  numbers, 
the  Hackee  makes  at  once  for  his  burrow,  and  is  there  secure 
from  the  attacks  of  nearly  all  enemies.  One  foe  there  is, 
however,  that  cares  naught  for  the  burrow,  but  follows  the 
poor  Hackee  through  all  of  its  windings,  and  never  fails  to 
attain  his  sanguinary  object.  This  remorseless  foe  is  the 
stoat,  or  ermine,  whose  only  penchant  is  the  blood,  and  not 
the  flesh,  of  his  victim. 

Early  in  November  the  Hackee  moves  into  his  winter- 
quarters,  excepting  in  occasional  instances  when  the  sun 


288  Life  and  Immortality. 

shines  with  peculiar  warmth,  and  is  not  seen  again  until  the 
beginning  of  spring.  The  young,  to  the  number  of  four  or 
five,  are  produced  in  May,  and  there  is  generally  a  second 
brood  some  time  in  August.  A  rather  pugnacious  animal 
is  the  male  Hackee,  and  during  the  combats  which  are 
frequently  waged  when  several  males  meet,  their  tails  have 
been  known  to  snap  asunder  from  the  violence  of  their 
movements,  for  these  members,  it  is  undoubtedly  true,  are 
wonderfully  brittle  in  their  structure. 

Pretty  as  he .  is,  and  graceful  as  are  his  movements,  it 
hardly  pays  to  keep  the  animal  in  a  domesticated  state,  for 
his  temper  is  very  uncertain,  and  he  is  generally  sullen  even 
towards  his  keeper.  But  could  he  be  induced  to  take  to  the 
life  of  a  captive  kindly  and  pleasantly,  he  would,  by  his 
cunning  little  ways,  prove  a  most  agreeable  companion. 

Some  years  ago  an  American  writer  of  note  had  a  pair  of 
these  animals  which  made  their  home  in  the  foundation  wall 
of  her  house.  A  row  of  wild  cherry  trees  stood  near  the 
lawn  in  the  rear  of  the  building,  which  the  little  fellows  were 
wont  to  visit  many  times  daily,  carrying  off  in  their  pouches 
quite  a  number  at  a  time  of  the  numerous  cherry  pits  that  lay 
scattered  over  the  ground. 

The  season  being  dry,  one  morning  early  the  person  to 
whom  reference  has  been  made  repaired  to  the  lawn  and  poured 
a  pitcher  of  water  over  some  plants  that  grew  near  her  porch, 
when  one  of  these  squirrels  was  observed  to  pass  among 
them  on  his  way  to  the  trees.  He  paused  from  his  journey, 
sat  up  on  his  haunches,  took  one  of  the  wet  leaves  in  his 
hands,  pressed  the  sides  together  for  a  trough  for  the  moisture, 
and  holding  it  to  his  mouth  drank  from  it  the  water  in  the 
most  comical  fashion  imaginable.  He  then  went  to  another 
and  another,  drinking  from  five  or  six  leaves  in  all,  while 
she  stood  watching  near  by.  A  large  saucer  filled  with 
water  was  placed  near  the  plants,  which  the  little  fellows 
quickly  discovered,  and  both  thereafter  drank  and  washed 
regularly  at  the  dish. 


Nature's  Little  Store-keeper.  289 

A  practice  of  testing  their  knowledge  of  nuts  was  then 
made.  When  cracked  hickory  nuts  were  given  them,  they 
at  once  sat  down  and  picked  out  of  them  the  meats,  which 
they  eagerly  devoured.  Cracked  nuts,  it  would  seem,  were 
deemed  worthless  for  storage.  But,  on  the  contrary,  when 
whole  nuts  were  given,  they  tested  them,  evidently  by 
weight,  to  see  if  they  were  sound.  Sound  nuts  were 
promptly  transported  to  their  burrow,  but  the  poor  ones 
were  dropped.  They  were  never  known  to  be  mistaken  in 
their  judgment,  for  the  rejected  nuts  on  being  cracked  were 
always  found  to  be  worthless. 

Although  the  food  of  the  Hackee  is  mostly  vegetal  in 
character,  yet,  like  his  English  relative,  he  is  occasionally 
carnivorous  in  his  appetite,  for  he  has  been  detected  in  the 
cruel  act  of  robbing  birds'  nests  and  devouring  their  callow 
young. 

Some  Squirrels  are  remarkable  for  their  extreme  agility  in 
climbing  trees,  and  in  making  extraordinary  leaps  from  one 
bough  to  another  or  from  some  elevated  spot  to  the  earth. 
The  Ground  Squirrels,  however,  are  intended  to  abide  on 
the  earth,  and  are  seldom  known  to  ascend  trees  to  any 
great  height.  As  they  possess  cheek-pouches,  they  are 
placed  in  a  separate  genus  under  the  the  name  of  Tamias, 
which  is  a  Greek  word,  signifying  a  store-keeper,  and  are 
distinct  from  the  others  in  being  furnished  with  these  append- 
ages. Tamias  striatus  is  the  appellation  by  which  the  sub- 
ject of  our  sketch  is  known  to  the  books. 


SflGflCITY. 


MANY  years  ago,  two  decades  or  more,  the  writer  was 
the  possessor  of  a  little  dog — a  French  poodle  by 
breed.  A  more  knowing  animal  of  his  kind  never  lived. 
He  was  a  pretty  creature,  with  hair  as  white  as  driven  snow, 
and  manners  the  most  agreeable.  Great  pride  was  taken  in 
his  appearance.  That  his  dress  should  maintain  its  natural 
purity,  he  was  weekly  subjected  to  a  warm-water  bath.  This 
task  devolved  upon  a  little  brunette,  for  whom  the  canine 
had  contracted  a  strong  affection. 

Frisky,  for  such  was  our  pet's  name,  had  never  before 
coming  into  the  family  known  what  it  was  to  receive  a  good 
washing.  His  first  experience  was  as  uninteresting  as  it  was 
novel  and  strange.  It  was  anything  but  pleasant  to  him, 
but  the  little  fellow  bore  it  like  a  martyr. 

Such  treatment,  by  the  ordinary  cur,  would  have  been 
resented  with  snaps  and  snarls,  but  his  was  a  gentle  nature  that 
knew  no  such  untoward  manifestations.  But  there  was,  all 
the  same,  an  aversion  to  the  bath,  as  looks  only  too  plainly 
indicated.  So  pronounced  was  the  dislike,  that  the  very 
sight  of  water  caused  his  delicate  frame  to  shake  like  a 
child's  with  the  cold. 

Had  not  the  greatest  care  been  taken  in  the  preparation  of 
the  bath,  it  might  have  been  thought  that  the  tremors  that 
shook  his  by  no  means  robust  frame  were  induced  by  the 
water's  chilliness  or  by  its  undue  warmth.  But  this  could 
not  be  the  case,  as  the  fluid  was  always  tempered  to  the  most 
sensitive  touch. 

But  there  came  a  time,  however,  when  Frisky  was  deter- 
mined .to  evade  these  kindnesses  upon  the  part  of  his 


Canine  Sagacity.  291 

mistress.  He  had  pleaded  immunity  from  them  in  pitying 
glances,  but  without  avail.  Something  must  be  done,  his 
looks  would  seem  to  say,  as  he  lay  cuddled  up  by  the  cosy 
kitchen  fire.  One  could  almost  read  the  thoughts  that  were 
shaping  themselves  in  his  mind. 

For  three  long  years  Frisky,  who  had  been  allowed  to 
sleep  at  nights  in  the  sitting-room,  was  accustomed,  when 
morning  broke,  to  visit  the  different  members  of  the  family 
in  their  respective  dormitories,  and  have  a  lively,  rollicking 
time.  These  visits  were  always  looked  forward  to,  and  in  no 
instance,  during  the  whole  of  that  period,  were  they  ever 
intermitted.  To  have  missed  one  of  these  exciting  romps, 
would  have  been  a  keenly-felt  deprivation.  But  that  we  were 
to  be  doomed  to  such  disappointment  and  affliction,  subse- 
quent events  only  too  clearly  showed. 

One  Saturday  morning,  for  it  was  always  on  the  Jewish 
Sabbath  that  the  bath  was  given,  Frisky  failed  to  make  his 
accustomed  calls.  This  was  noticed  by  everyone,  and  no 
amount  of  comment  was  provoked.  Loudly  his  name  was 
spoken,  but  no  response  was  elicited,  and  it  soon  became 
evident  that  the  cunning  little  elf  was  beyond  the  reach  of 
calling.  Search  was  instituted,  but  to  no  effect.  His  absence 
was  lamented,  and  it  was  feared  some  calamity  had  befallen 
him.  A  silence,  like  unto  death,  filled  the  house.  There 
was  weeping  and  wailing  about,  for  Frisky  was  not. 

But  just  as  the  shadows  of  night  were  deepening,  and  hope 
was  dying  out  of  the  bosoms  of  all,  the  patter  of  little  feet 
was  heard  upon  the  pavement  leading  to  the  back-door. 
The  sounds  were  too  familiar  to  be  those  of  a  stranger.  All 
listened  with  breathless  silence.  "  Tis  Frisky,  'tis  Frisky," 
went  up  a  chorus  of  voices,  and  we  all  rushed  to  the  door  to 
welcome  the  runaway  back  to  the  fold.  Not  a  chiding  word 
was  spoken,  not  a  look  of  reproof  given,  as  with  out- 
stretched arms  the  culprit  was  received  to  our  hearts.  A 
more  crestfallen,  conscience-stricken  being,  however,  could 
hardly  be  conceived  to  exist. 


292 


Life  and  Immortality. 


Things  resumed  their  wonted  sway.  Happiness  reigned 
once  more  in  the  family.  Frisky's  matutinal  visits  were  as 
though  they  had  not  been  interrupted.  His  frolics  had  all 
their  former  vivacity.  The  sin  committed  had  been  con- 
doned, and  he  in  splendid  repute  again. 


MY  DOG  FRISKY. 
How  He  Greeted  His  Master. 


A  week  since  his  first  wrong-doing  had  elapsed.  Would 
he  repeat  his  plan  of  getting  rid  of  the  obnoxious  bath  ? — 
had  never  entered  our  minds.  The  day  dawned  bright  and 
lovely.  All  was  bustle  outside,  and  the  slamming  of  shutters 
told  that  the  servant  was  astir  in  the  kitchen.  As  was  her 
usual  custom,  the  entry  door  was  left  open  for  Frisky.  All 
ears  were  on  the  stretch.  There  were  no  familiar  signs. 
The  sharp,  glad  bark  that  always  heralded  his  coming  was 
wanting,  and  so,  too,  the  timing  of  little  feet  upon  the  stairs. 
Not  a  sound  of  breathing,  not  a  rustle  of  counterpane,  was 
heard.  Still  and  motionless  we  all  lay,  till  the  minutes 
seemed  hours,  and  then  came  the  thought  that  it  was 


Canine  Sagacity.  293 

Saturday  and  Frisky  had  again  disappeared.  Search  was 
everywhere  made,  but  the  missing  one  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  That  he  had  slipped  out  when  the  door  was  opened, 
was  now  most  obvious.  No  effort  was  made  to  find  his 
hiding-place,  for  we  all  knew  that  he  would  come  back  with 
the  shadows. 

His  coming  was  later  this  time  than  before.  The  sun  had 
long  gone  to  rest.  It  was  pitch  dark  when  the  pawing  of 
little  feet  against  the  door  announced  his  return. 

This  second  offence  was  passed  over  as  the  first  had  been, 
and  Frisky  was  his  jolly,  frolicsome  self  once  more.  A  score 
of  Saturdays  was  thus  managed  and  the  hateful  bath  escaped, 
for  well  this  cunning  bit  of  flesh  and  fur  knew  that  the  sev- 
enth was  the  only  day  of  the  week  when  it  was  convenient 
for  his  mistress  to  attend  to  his  ablutions. 

That  Frisky  was  able  to  count,  or  had  some  means  of 
determining  the  coming  of  the  day  he  so  thoroughly 
detested,  there  can  be  no  question.  But  the  exceeding  cute- 
ness  of  his  nature  not  only  showed  itself  in  his  manner  of 
getting  rid  of  the  hateful  bath,  but  in  various  other  ways. 
He  seemed  equal  to  every  emergency  that  could  arise.  Often- 
times I  have  watched  him,  as  he  lay  upon  a  rug  by  the  kitchen- 
hearth,  or  upon  the  pillow  of  a  new-made  bed,  for  he  was  at 
liberty  to  go  where  he  pleased  about  the  house,  and  I  have 
fancied  that  I  could  see  him  thinking,  or  read  the  train  of 
thoughts  passing  through  his  mind,  so  human-like  seemed 
he  in  these  reflective  moments. 

When  scolded  for  some  trifling  misdoing,  or  threatened 
with  denial  of  some  expected  pleasure,  no  so-called  brute 
could  show  more  pitying  glances.  His  grief  was  often  heart- 
rending to  behold.  Prostrate  upon  the  ground  or  carpet,  or 
in  what  place  soever  he  chanced  to  be,  he  would  moan  and 
moan  for  hours  together,  and  only  consent  to  be  comforted 
when  the  burden  was  lifted  from  off  his  soul  by  a  kind 
word  spoken,  a  smiling  look  given,  or  a  quick,  hearty  shake 
of  his  delicate  paw.  When  happy,  and  it  did  not  take  much 


294  Life  and  Immortality. 

to  make  him  happy,  he  was  full  of  life  and  vivacity,  capering 
and  prancing  about  with  the  utmost  abandon,  and  doing  his 
very  best  to  show  off  his  happiness  and  pleasure.  His  eyes 
seemed  kindled  with  a  holy  affection,  and  a  blaze  of  heavenly 
sunshine  would  appear  to  play  over  his  features.  I  have 
seen  him,  when  in  such  mental  agony,  to  actually  shed  tears, 
a  sight  that  never  could  fail  to  reach  and  melt  the  flintiest 
hearts.  He  knew  and  understood  every  word  that  was 
spoken  to  him,  and  responded  by  a  shake  of  the  head,  or  a 
low,  soft  bark.  A  conscience  within  told  him  the  right  from 
the  wrong,  and  though  he  sometimes  knowingly  erred,  yet 
he  was  always  truly  sorrowful  for  his  sins  afterwards. 

There  came  a  day,  however,  when  the  idol  of  the  house- 
hold went  out  and  never  returned.  Some  unlucky  event 
had  doubtless  befallen  him,  or  he  had  been  spirited  away  to 
parts  unknown.  If  living,  I  trust  he  is  being  cared  for  as  he 
richly  deserves.  He  was  a  kind,  gentle,  loving  being,  and  I 
cannot  help  thinking  that  some  day  I  shall  meet  him  in  the 
beautiful  world  beyond  the  grave. 


FEItlflE  IflTELItlGEflCE. 


PROBABLY  no  creature  has  been  more  calumniated  by 
J-  man  than  the  Domestic  Cat.  While  wonderful  intel- 
lectual powers,  as  well  as  the  most  amiable  traits  of  character, 
have  been  accredited  to  the  dog,  and  rightly  so,  it  seems 
rather  strange  that  so  little  of  good  has  been  found  to  exist 
in  the  subject  of  our  sketch.  She  has  been  held  up  to  repro- 
bation as  a  thoroughly  selfish  animal,  seeking  her  own  com- 
fort rather  than  that  of  others,  and  manifesting  a  stronger 
attachment  to  places  than  to  owners.  Sly  and  treacherous  as 
her  untamed  kindred  of  the  forests  and  jungles  are  known  to 
be,  she  receives  no  higher  commendation,  and  is  even  accused 
of  concealing  her  talons  in  her  velvety  paws  when  matters 
go  pleasantly  with  her,  and  ready  to  use  them  even  upon 
her  best  friends  when  crossed  in  her  purposes. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  experience  of  those  who  have 
so  grossly  libelled  the  Cat,  my  own  large  acquaintance  with 
the  animal  has  led  to  different  conclusions.  Nearly  all  the 
Cats  with  which  I  have  been  most  familiar  have  been  as 
docile,  tractable  and  affectionate  as  any  dog  could  be,  and 
have  exhibited  an  amount  of  intellectual  ability  unsurpassed 
by  few  dogs.  There  is  as  much  to  be  said  about  the  good 
and  bad  temper  of  the  Cat  as  of  the  dog,  while,  as  to  her 
mental  capacities,  the  advantage  is  not  so  decidedly  upon  the 
side  of  the  dog  as  is  generally  supposed.  Nor  is  my  own 
experience  exceptional,  for  in  all  instances  where  friends  have 
possessed  favorite  Cats  their  experiences  have  been  similar 
to  my  own. 

Self  is  not  always  paramount  to  everything  else  with  Cats. 
Some  are  generous  to  a  fault.  Mothers  have  been  known, 


296  Life  and  Immortality. 

whose  devotion  to  their  young  has  been  so  strong  that  they 
have  hunted  all  day  for  their  benefit,  even  when  the  latter 
were  full-grown,  scarcely  taking  any  nourishment  for  them- 
selves. But  such  feelings  are  perfectly  natural.  When, 
however,  we  see  a  Cat  that  is  willing  to  share  its  food  with 
a  stranger,  one  cannot  resist  the  thought  that  here  is  a  case 
of  real  generosity.  A  friend  once  possessed  a  fine  black 
Cat.  He  was  dainty  in  his  eating,  scrupulously  exact  in  his 
dress,  and  well-mannered  in  his  deportment.  No  Cat  ever 
received  better  training.  Unlike  the  average  Cat,  he  could 
be  trusted  in  the  presence  of  tempting  viands,  and  was  never 
known  to  abuse  the  confidence  reposed  in  him.  Beauty, 
for  so  he  was  called,  was  a  model  fellow,  and  well  deserved 
the  name.  The  education  he  received,  while  it  made  him 
gentle,  kind  and  affectionate,  and  gave  him  reliability  of 
character,  did  still  more,  for  it  endowed  him  with  a  soul 
that  was  not  a  stranger  to  the  noblest  impulses.  Life  had 
few  luxuries  that  he  did  not  enjoy ;  but  a  sprig  of  catnip  was 
more  to  him  than  the  choicest  steak  or  raciest  tidbit,  and  to 
this  luxury  he  was  weekly  treated.  Notwithstanding  his 
fondness  for  the  herb,  he  was  never  reluctant  to  share  it 
with  another,  whom  Fortune  had  less  favored. 

Cats,  at  least  such  as  are  well  circumstanced,  possess  some 
knowledge  of  the  uses  of  things.  We  once  knew  a  Cat 
that  would,  when  out  of  doors,  make  its  presence  known  by 
a  few  loud  raps  upon  the  closed  door,  administered  by  its 
right  front  paw.  If  the  call  was  not  immediately  answered, 
a  few  more  raps,  louder  than  before,  would  be  given,  and 
then  the  Cat,  unable  to  restrain  its  impatience,  would  spring 
up  to  the  latch,  striking  it  a  downward  blow,  as  though 
endeavoring,  human-like,  to  effect  an  entrance. 

But  quite  as  interesting  as  any  of  the  foregoing  cases  is 
that  of  a  female  Cat  that  had  run  a  spine  into  one  of  her 
hind  feet.  Limping  upon  three  legs  she  made  her  way  to 
her  mistress,  and,  raising  her  foot,  implored  with  a  piteous 
look  and  sad,  distressing  cries  the  removal  of  the  offensive 


Feline  Intelligence. 


297 


spine.  A  child  could  not  have  made  its  suffering  better 
understood,  nor  supplicated  the  needed  relief  more  intelli- 
gently, than  did  this  poor  creature,  which  thoughtless  man 
in  his  self-glorification  is  so  prone  to  regard  as  a  senseless, 
unintelligent  and  unreasoning  being,  which  has  no  existence 
beyond  this  sublunary  sphere. 

While  Cats  are  useful  in  the  destruction  of  vermin,  and 
afford  man  no  little  amusement  by  their  wonderful  antics,  yet 
they  seldom  put  themselves  to  any  practical  use.  The  Cat, 
about  which  we  shall  now  have  something  to  say,  is  an 
exception  to  the  rule,  and  quite  a  marvel  in  his  ways.  He 
is  a  resident  of  a  far-away  town  in  New  Jersey,  and  came  to 
his  present  quarters  a  long,  gaunt,  wild-eyed,  unfed  creature. 


TOM  ON  DUTY. 

Guarding  His  Master's  Cows. 


293  Life  and  Immortality. 

But  something  in  his  looks  told  of  a  soul  within  that  fore- 
shadowed a  great  deal  of  good,  and  so  the  Cat,  which  at 
first  seemed  an  unwelcome  guest,  began  to  be  looked  upon 
in  an  appreciative  manner.  And  now  Tom,  as  the  Cat  is 
called,  is  a  fixture  in  the  household. 

Almost  from  his  advent  into  the  family  Tom  began  to  give 
an  exhibition  of  his  common-sense.  This  first  remarkable 
show  of  intelligence  was  on  the  Sunday  succeeding  his  adop- 
tion. The  family  had  repaired  to  church,  leaving  Tom  con- 
tentedly snoozing  in  a  corner  of  the  kitchen.  But  their 
surprise  can  hardly  be  pictured  when  in  the  midst  of  the  ser- 
mon Tom  came  flying  down  the  aisle  to  the  place  where  his 
master  was  seated,  and  clawing  the  legs  of  the  trousers  of 
the  latter,  began  yelling  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  The  minis- 
ter stopped  in  the  midst  of  his  talking,  and  everybody  got  up 
to  see  what  the  trouble  was,  but  Tom,  utterly  oblivious  of 
them  all,  continued  his  strange  behavior. 

Convinced  that  the  actions  of  the  Cat  were  not  the  result  of 
an  epileptic  fit,  but  foreboded  something  wrong  at  the  house, 
the  male  portion  of  the  congregation  started  thither,  and 
when  the  house  was  reached  a  dense  column  of  smoke  was 
seen  pouring  from  the  kitchen  window.  The  door  was 
thrown  open,  and  the  carpet  on  the  floor  was  found  burned  to 
a  cinder.  A  coal  of  fire  had  evidently  fallen  from  the  stove- 
grate  and  started  the  fire.  That  Tom  had  understood  the 
danger,  was  shown  by  his  actions. 

One  day,  a  horse,  belonging  to  a  neighboring  farmer,  ran 
away,  and  tore  down  the  road  past  Tom's  home  at  a  thun- 
dering gait.  Tom  was  sauntering  around  the  yard,  and  his 
attention  being  drawn  to  the  rattling  of  the  wagon,  he  was 
soon  in  the  road  to  see  what  the  trouble  was,  and  observing 
that  the  team  was  unaccompanied  by  a  driver,  he  leaped  upon 
the  head  of  the  runaway  horse  and  hung  on  with  teeth  and 
claws  until  the  animal  was  secured.  On  another  occasion  a 
tramp,  happening  along  the  road,  descried  a  bicycle  that  be- 
longed to  one  of  the  inmates  of  the  house.  He  was  soon 


Feline  Intelligence,  299 

astride  the  wheel,  and  might  have  made  his  escape  had  not  he 
fallen  under  the  eyes  of  Tom,  who,  as  quick  as  a  flash,  was 
after  the  thief.  Leaping  into  the  air,  he  fell  on  the  man's  shoul- 
ders and  set  his  teeth  firmly  into  his  neck.  There  was  a 
howl  and  a  crash  that  brought  the  family  to  the  yard,  and 
there  they  found  the  tramp  rolling  on  the  ground  and  mak- 
ing desperate  efforts  to  get  away  from  Tom's  rigid  jaws. 
Finally  the  Cat  was  induced  to  relax  his  hold,  and  the 
wounds  of  the  tramp  being  cared  for,  he  was  allowed  to  pro- 
ceed on  his  way. 

More  wonderful  still  is  what  follows  :  When  the  master 
wants  to  bait  his  cows  and  keep  them  within  a  certain  area 
he  instructs  Tom  to  watch  them,  and  the  allotted  task  is  per- 
formed with  all  the  faithfulness  and  wisdom  of  a  shepherd's 
dog.  Any  disposition  to  stray  outside  the  limits  is  checked, 
the  erring  animal  being  hustled  back  by  Torn,  who,  attach- 
ing himself  to  her  caudal  extremity,  remains  there  until  she 
is  brought  back  to  where  she  belongs. 

No  animals  seem  to  require  human  sympathy  so  much  as 
.Cats,  or  to  be  so  capable  of  giving  sympathy  in  return. 
Where  they  have  formed  a  strong  attachment  to  a  person 
they  are  loath  to  be  away  from  his  society  and  follow 
him  wheresoever  he  goes,  giving  caresses  and  expecting 
a  liberal  share  of  the  same  in  return.  I  have  been  upon  a 
bed  of  sickness  and  a  favorite  Cat,  which  I  always  addressed 
as  Puss,  would,  whenever  the  opportunity  occurred,  make 
her  way  into  my  room,  and,  jumping  upon  the  bed,  lay  her 
head  against  my  face  in  the  most  endearing  manner,  and 
purr  her  sweetest  and  gentlest,  ever  and  anon  stopping  to 
express  her  sympathy  by  licking  my  forehead  or  uplifted 
hand.  Even  when  Puss  has  been  suffering  from  maladies  to 
which  all  flesh  of  her  kind  is  heir,  I  have  sat  by  her  side 
and  stroked  her  head,  and  have  read  in  the  look  which  she 
gave  me  that  she  felt  my  sympathy  and  appreciated  it 
beyond  any  power  of  expression  of  hers  to  declare.  She 
seemed  to  think  at  all  times  that  I  was  wholly  her  own,  and 


300  Life  and  Immortality. 

no  other  Cat,  not  even  one  of  her  own  offspring,  would  be 
allowed  such  familiarities,  as  any  attempt  was  sure  to  pro- 
voke the  most  intense  jealousy.  Nor  was  I  permitted  to 
lavish  attentions  upon  any  of  her  kith,  for  she  would  soon 
become  wrought  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  excitement,  and 
instant  vengeance  would  be  wreaked  upon  the  recipient  of 
my  favors. 

Much  more  might  be  said  about  the  Cat.  It  has  its  good 
qualities  and  its  bad  qualities.  There  is  hardly  a  trait  of 
character  which  the  human  animal  possesses  that  it  does 
not  possess.  Of  course  I  now  speak  of  our  Domestic  Cat. 
In  the  long-past  times,  when  the  Egyptian  nation  was  at  the 
head  of  the  civilized  world,  Felis  maniculata,  which  is  the 
reputed  origin  of  our  Domestic  Cat,  was  universally  domes- 
ticated in  their  homes,  and  it  is  not  unknown  the  very  high 
position  it  held  in  the  love  and  esteem  of  the  people,  for  it 
was  deified  and  worshipped  as  a  god.  Even  in  England, 
still  later  down  in  time,  the  Domestic  Cat  was  so  scarce 
that  royal  edicts  were  issued  for  its  preservation.  Yet  in 
those  days,  A.  D.  948,  the  wild  Cat  was  rife  in  the  British 
Islands  and  was  considered  as  a  vicious  animal,  which  must 
be  destroyed,  and  not  a  useful  one  to  be  protected  by  the 
law.  How  we  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Cat  is  a  mat- 
ter of  conjecture,  the  current  belief  being  that  it  was 
imported  from  Egypt  into  Greece  and  Rome,  and  thence  into 
England. 


MTTIiE  CEBlDflE 


NEXT  to  man,  in  descending  the  scale  of  animal  life, 
.  come  the  Quadrumana,  or  Four-handed  Animals. 
They  are  represented  by  the  Apes,  Baboons,  Monkeys  and 
Lemurs.  Excepting  the  last,  and  a  few  other  species,  these 
animals  are  not  very  pleasing  in  aspect  or  habits,  some  of 
them,  the  larger  apes  and  baboons,  being  positively  disgust- 
ing. The  air  of  grotesque  humanity  that  characterizes  them 
is  horribly  suggestive  of  human  idiocy,  and  we  approach  an 
imprisoned  gorilla  or  baboon  with  much  the  same  repug- 
nance that  we  do  a  debased  and  brutal  maniac.  This  aver- 
sion seems  not  to  be  produced  so  much  by  the  resemblance 
that  the  ape  bears  to  man,  as  by  the  horror  felt  lest  man 
should  degenerate  to  the  condition,  character  and  physiog- 
nomy of  the  ape.  But  to  the  naturalist,  who  sees  wonder  or 
beauty  in  all  things  animate,  these  creatures  are  no  less  pleas- 
ing than  others  that  are  not  so  repugnant. 

Were  we  to  take  a  survey  of  the  varied  forms  which  the 
Quadrumana  of  the  Old  World  assume,  we  would  find  that 
the  forms  would  show  such  diversification  that  there  would 
hardly  seem  scope  for  further  modifications.  Yet  the  pro- 
lific power  of  nature  is  so  inexhaustible,  that  the  depth  of  our 
researches  would  only  bring  to  light  objects  of  such  infinite 
variety  of  form  as  to  overwhelm  the  mind  with  surprise  and 
admiration.  Thus  it  would  be  found  to  be  with  the  Cebidae, 
or  American  Monkeys.  While  they  would  be  shown  to 
possess  the  chief  characteristics  of  the  monkey  nature,  thus 
establishing  their  close  relationship  with  the  Old  World 
monkeys,  yet  they  would  be  seen  to  exhibit  the  strangest 


3O2  Life  and  Immortality. 

modification  of  details.  Their  four  hand-like  paws,  and 
other  quadrumanous  peculiarities,  would  indicate  their  status 
in  the  animal  kingdom,  while  sundry  differences  of  confor- 
mation would  show  that  they  were  intended  to  live  under 
conditions  that  would  ill  suit  their  relatives  on  the  other  side 
of  the  globe.  Curious  it  is  to  observe  how  the  same  idea  of 
animal  life  is  repeated  in  various  lands  and  climates,  even 
though  seas,  impassable  to  creatures  unaided  by  the  light  of 
civilized  reason,  intervene.  So  we  have  the  Simiadae  of 
Asia  and  Africa  represented  by  the  Cebidae  of  America. 
Nor  is  this  wonderful  idea  restricted  exclusively  to  the  man- 
like animals.  The  lion,  tiger  and  other  feline  races  of  the 
Eastern  Continent  find  Western  representatives  in  the 
puma  and  jaguar,  and  the  same  circumstance  may  be  ob- 
served of  nearly  all  the  mammalia,  the  birds,  the  reptiles, 
the  fishes,  and,  in  short,  through  the  entire  animal  kingdom. 
But  of  all  the  monkeys  of  the  New  World,  and  they  are 
numbered  by  hundreds  included  in  several  genera  and 
species,  there  are  none  that  deserve  more  consideration  than 
the  Capuchin  Monkeys.  They  are  active,  little  animals,  lively 
and  playful.  So  similar  are  all  the  species  in  general  habits, 
that  a  description  of  one  will  equally  serve  for  any  other. 
Their  youthfulness  and  sportive  manners  make  them  very 
desirable  companions,  and  hence  we  frequently  find  them 
domesticated  by  the  native  Indians  and  European  settlers. 
Like  other  small  monkeys,  the  Capuchin  often  strikes  up  a 
friendship  for  other  animals  that  may  happen  to  live  in  or 
near  its  home,  the  cat  being  one  of  the  most  favored  of  its 
allies.  It  is  sometimes  the  case  this  familiarity  is  carried  so 
far  that  the  cat  is  turned  into  a  horse  by  the  monkey,  who, 
seated  upon  her  back,  perambulates  the  premises.  More 
unpromising  subjects,  we  are  told,  have  been  pressed  into 
similar  service.  Humboldt  cites  the  case  of  one  that  was 
accustomed  to  catch  a  pig  every  morning,  and,  mounted 
upon  its  back,  was  known  to  retain  its  seat  during  the  entire 
day.  •  Even  when  the  pig  was  feeding  in  the  savannas  its 


Bright  Little  Cebidce.  303 

rider  remained  firm,  and  bestrode  the  animal  with  as  much 
pertinacity  as  one  skilled  in  equestrianism  would  the  most 
rampant  steed. 

No  little  difficulty  is  experienced  in  settling  the  species  of 
the  Capuchins,  for  their  fur  is  rather  variable  in  tint,  and  some 
individuals  differing  so  greatly  as  to  cause  them  to  look  like 
another  species.  The  general  color  of  the  Capuchin — Cebus 
apella — is  a  golden  olive,  a  white  fur  bordering  the  face  in 
some,  though  not  in  all  individuals.  Cebus  fatuellus,  com- 
monly called  the  Horned  Sapajou  or  Capuchin,  is  much  more 
conspicuous  than  the  last,  as  the  erect  fringe  of  hair  that 
projects  so  prominently  from  the  forehead  indicates  it  at 
once :  hence  from  the  front,  the  hair  assumes  the  appearance 
of  two  tufts  or  horns,  from  which  peculiarity  the  animal 
derives  its  name.  These  horns  are  not  completely  devel- 
oped until  the  monkey  has  attained  maturity.  There  is  also 
a  manifest  difference  in  color  of  hair,  the  Sapajou  having  a 
constant  tinge  of  red  in  its  fur.  It  is  usually  of  a  deep  brown 
color,  but  in  some  individuals  there  is  a  marked  resemblance 
to  that  peculiar  purple-black  which  is  obtainable  by  diluting 
common  black  ink  with  water,  while  in  others  the  ruddy 
hue  is  so  pronounced  as  to  impart  a  chestnut  tint  to  the 
animal's  hair.  The  fringed  crest  is  tipped  with  gray. 

Perhaps  no  more  interesting  form  of  the  Capuchins  exists 
than  the  Weeper  Monkey,  or  Sai,  or,  as  it  is  called  in  the 
books,  Cebus  capucinus.  As  in  the  case  of  the  two  preced- 
ing species,  it  is  an  inhabitant  of  Venezuela  and  Brazil,  and 
as  lively  as  any  of  its  congeners.  Like  its  brethren,  its  tail  is 
invested  with  a  dense  growth  of  hair,  but  this  does  not  inter- 
fere with  its  prehensile  powers.  The  Sai  is  possessed  of  a 
large  amount  of  intelligence,  and  its  quaint  little  ways  make 
it  a  great  favorite  with  those  who  delight  to  watch  its  quick 
and  agile  movements.  While  things  of  a  vegetable  character 
constitute  the  chief  part  of  its  food,  yet  it  manifests  a  fond- 
ness for  various  kinds  of  insects,  and  is  sometimes  known  to 
ascend  to  higher  prey,  for  it  has  been  observed  to  feed  upon 


304  Life  and  Immortality. 

birds,  which  it  devours  with  avidity,  not  even  waiting  to  pluck 
off  the  feathers.  Eggs  are  also  thought  to  form  a  no  incon- 
siderable part  of  this  Capuchin's  diet. 

Some  few  years  ago,  Prof.  Cope  had  in  his  possession  a 
tame  Sai,  which  was  kept  in  a  cage,  or,  rather,  was  supposed 
to  be  kept  in  it,  for  the  animal  had  a  strong  aversion  to  con- 
finement, and  was  sure  to  break  loose  therefrom  sooner  or 
later.  When  in  "durance  vile,  and  wishing  to  break  prison, 
he  always  directed  his  attention  to  the  hinges,  and  no  matter 
how  firmly  they  were  fixed,  he  was  sure  before  long  to  ex- 
tract the  staples,  pull  out  the  nails,  and  so  open  the  door  at 
the  hinges,  and  not  at  the  latch. 

Finding  that  the  cage  could  not  hold  him,  his  master  had 
him  confined  by  a  strap  fastened  around  the  waist,  after  the 
fashion  of  monkeys.  The  strap,  however,  proved  to  be  of  no 
more  use  than  the  cage,  for  the  crafty  animal  soon  contrived 
to  open  it,  and  this  he  did  by  ingeniously  picking  out  the 
threads  by  which  the  strap  was  sewn  to  the  buckle,  and  so 
rendering  the  fastenings  useless. 

Again  he  was  confined  to  the  cage  and  carefully  watched. 
Having  rid  himself  of  the  strap,  he  began  to  consider  how  he 
might  apply  it  to  some  useful  purpose.  So,  having  perceived 
that  some  food  had  fallen  beyond  his  reach,  he  took  one 
end  of  the  strap  in  his  paw,  flung  the  other  over  the  morsel 
of  food,  and  so  drew  it  toward  him.  In  this  feat  he  displayed 
great  accuracy  of  aim,  seldom  missing  the  object  which  he  de- 
sired. Once  or  twice,  when  he  had  to  make  a  longer  throw 
than  usual,  he  loosened  his  hold  of  the  strap.  The  first  time 
that  this  happened,  some  one  handed  him  the  poker.  He 
took  it,  drew  the  strap  toward  him,  and  resumed  its  use  as 
before. 

No  intelligent  person  can  deny  that  these  acts  were 
prompted  by  reason.  So  far  from  even  being  aided  by 
instinct,  the  animal  was  certainly  acting  in  direct  opposition 
to  it.  The  instinct  of  an  animal  when  confined  or  tethered 
in  any  way  is  to  break  loose  by  main  strength,  and  the 


Bright  Little  Cebidcz. 


305 


JACK  AT  DINNER. 
Showing  His  Use  of  Table  Implements. 


instinct  of  the  monkey  would  have  impelled  him  to  force  his 
way  through  the  bars  of  the  cage  or  to  strain  at  the  strap 
until  he  had  broken  it  in  two.  But  it  was  his  reason  that 
taught  him  to  look  for  the  weak  part  in  both  cage  and  strap, 
and,  having  found  it,  to  devote  his  energies  to  that  part  until 
he  had  succeeded  in  his  object. 

Was  it  possible  for  instinct  to  teach  him  that  the  hinges 
were  the  weak  part  of  his  cage,  and  that,  if  he  could  only 
remove  the  staples  or  nails,  the  door  would  open  and  he 


306  Life  and  Immortality. 

would  be  free  ?  Could  instinct  teach  him  that  the  stitches 
of  the  strap-buckle  were  to  the  strap  what  the  staples  and 
nails  were  to  the  hinges,  and  that  if  he  could  but  pick  out 
the  threads,  the  fasten 'ngs  of  the  strap  would  be  rendered  of 
no  effect  ?  Neither  c  Distinct  teach  him  to  use  the  strap 
after  the  manner  of  a  '  so,  nor  to  employ  the  poker  in  regain- 
ing his  lost  weapon. 

Not  only  did  he  thus  show  his  ability  to  deal  with  the 
obstacles  that  stood  in  the  way  of  his  freedom,  and  without 
even  the  slightest  suggestion  from  the  mind  of  his  master, 
but  he  also  gave  evidence  that  he  had  the  capacity  to  profit 
by  many  of  the  civilities  by  which  he  found  himself  sur- 
rounded in  the  life  in  which  he  was  placed.  Monkeys  are 
remarkable  for  their  power  of  imitation,  and  Jack,  as  this 
Capuchin  was  called,  proved  himself  to  be  no  ordinary  fel- 
low in  this  respect.  He  had  seen  his  master  eat  out  of  a 
dish,  using  knife,  fork  and  spoon  when  occasion  demanded, 
and  nothing  would  do  but  an  abandonment  of  his  old  habits 
— the  using  of  his  fingers,  which  his  ancestors  were  wont  to 
do — and  the  assumption  of  civilized  practices.  In  time  he 
became  quite  skilful  in  the  use  of  these  table  implements 
and  showed  greater  dexterity  in  handling  them  than  many 
a  man  has  shown.  Accustomed  to  their  use,  he  would 
never  have  things  any  other  way.  The  writer  has  repeat- 
edly been  present  when  he  was  taking  his  meals.  Seated 
upon  the  ground,  his  head  and  body  slightly  bent  forward, 
with  his  plate  of  food  before  him,  the  ground  serving  him  as 
a  table,  Jack  would  help  himself  in  a  quiet,  cool  and  deliber- 
ate manner,  all  the  while  evincing  in  movement  and  look  an 
air  of  the  most  consequential  importance.  To  say  that  he 
was  proud  of  the  success  which  he  had  achieved  in  the  correct 
use  of  table  implements  but  tamely  expresses  the  feeling 
which  would  dominate  his  bosom  at  such  times.  No  human 
individual  who  had  accomplished  some  wonderful  discovery 
or  striking  feat  at  arms  that  had  caused  the  earth  to  resound 
with  his  praises,  could  have  felt  more  of  the  emotion  than 


Bright  Little  Cebida.  307 

Jack.  Indeed,  it  was  a  remarkable  feat  for  Jack,  and  he  had 
a  right  to  feel  vain  over  its  accomplishment.  All  the  while, 
he  was  eating  he  would  chatter  in  his  uncouth  guttural 
tongue,  as  though  he  had  learned,  like-Jiis  human  brethren, 
that  conversation  gave  relish  to  a-  ~  .-.nd  was  a  powerful 
aid  to  digestion. 

While  Jack  was  a  very  useful  fellow  to  uave  about,  espec- 
ially where  cats  without  owners  aboun-.cd,  for  he  was  a 
terror  upon  these  feline  nuisances,  yet  he  had  a  few  faults 
which  detracted  very  much  from  his  otherwise  good  charac- 
ter. Like  some  boys,  he  was  addicted  to  the  habit  of  throw- 
ing stones,  but  I  am  more  than  half  disposed  to  believe  that 
this  was  an  acquired  propensity,  which  he  had  learned  by 
seeing  his  master  engaged  in  a  similar  diversion,  or  perhaps, 
which  is  not  at  all  unlikely,  he  had  been  trained  to  such 
exercise  and  pastime  by  his  master.  Well,  he  could  throw 
stones  with  considerable  force,  and  with  as  much  precision 
as  any  well-trained  lad  of  fourteen  summers  could  do.  Let 
the  master  but  give  him  a  stone,  and  say,  "  Now,  Jack,  hit 
that  fellow,"  and  Jack  needed  no  second  telling.  Throwing 
his  right  arm  back,  just  as  a  boy  would  do,  in  order  to  give 
the  necessary  impetus  to  the  missile,  he  would  send  the 
stone  flying  in  the  right  direction.  It  required  no  little  skill 
and  celeiity  of  movement  to  dodge  the  projectile,  as  the 
writer  had  more  than  once  learned  by  painful  experience, 
for  Jack's  wonderful  and  well-directed  aim  seldom  went 
astray  of  its  purpose. 

Towards  his  master  Jack  showed  great  deference  and 
attention,  and  was  ever  ready  to  obey  his  slightest  wish. 
No  one's  society  he  enjoyed  better.  It  was  always  a  pleas- 
ure to  be  near  him,  but  strangers  he  seemed  to  despise  and 
treat  as  enemies.  He  would  always  eye  them  with  a  suspic- 
ious look,  and  could  never  tolerate  their  presence  for  any 
considerable  length  of  time  without  giving  vent  to  his  annoy- 
ance by  the  most  angry  vociferations  and  hideous  grimaces. 
Should  this  not  have  the  effect  of  causing  them  to  retire,  he 


308  Life  and  Immortality. 

would  emphasize  his  objection  to  their  presence  by  pelting 
them  with  stones  and  such  other  missiles  as  were  convenient 
to  hand.  That  he  had  a  considerable  affection  for  his  master, 
and  respected  him,  no  stronger  evidence  could  be  given  than 
what  has  already  been  adduced. 

After  all  that  has  been  said  concerning  Jack,  yet  the  world 
is  full  of  people,  educated  and  intelligent  as  they  consider 
themselves  to  be,  who  cannot  see  that  this  bit  of  flesh  and 
spirit  has  been  endowed  by  the  same  wise  Creator  with  the 
same  traits  of  character,  but  differing  in  degree,  that  they 
themselves  possess.  Going  back  to  the  ingenuity  which 
Jack  displayed  in  the  cases  of  the  cage  and  the  strap  referred 
to,  it  may  be  said  to  his  credit  that  even  Baron  Trench  him- 
self could  not  have  shown  greater  skill  in  the  discovery  of 
the  weak  parts  of  his  prison  and  bonds  than  did  this  so-called 
brute,  nor  could  he  have  exhibited  more  patience  and  perse- 
verance in  working  at  them.  Indeed,  there  are  many  human 
beings  that  would  not  have  been  half  so  sensible  as  Jack, 
but  still  we  must  believe  that  such  high  intelligence,  com- 
paratively speaking,  must  inevitably  perish  with  the  body, 
through  which  as  a  vehicle  it  was  made  to  manifest  itself. 
All  intelligence  is  an  emanation  from  the  Divine  Intelligence, 
and,  when  the  life  has  gone  out  of  the  body  from  which  it 
was  made  to  shine  forth,  then  it,  instead  of  perishing  with 
the  material,  returns  to  the  Source  of  all  intelligence,  not 
to  be  re-absorbed,  but,  as  I  think,  to  continue  as  a  separate 
intelligence,  drawing  its  life  and  light  from  the  great  Central 
Head,  like  as  the  planets  derive  theirs  from  the  centre  of  our 
material  universe — the  Sun. 


STRANGE  and  unique  as  are  the  plants  and  animals  of 
Australia,  yet  nothing  definite  can  be  affirmed  of  its 
native  human  inhabitants.  They  are  a  peculiar  people,  sepa- 
rated by  a  wide  remove  from  the  Papuans,  the  Malays  and 
the  Negro.  Of  a  dark,  coffee-brown  complexion,  rather 
than  actually  black,  the  Australian  is  but  little  inferior  to 
the  average  European  in  height,  but  is  altogether  of  a  much 
slimmer  and  feebler  build,  his  limbs,  particularly,  being  very 
lean  and  destitute  of  calves,  a  defect  which  is  a  peculiarity  of 
the  darker  races  of  man.  His  head  is  long  and  narrow,  doli- 
chocephalic in  type,  with  a  low  brow,  prominent  just  above 
the  orbital  regions,  but  receding  thence  in  a  very  marked 
degree.  The  nose,  proceeding  from  a  comparatively  narrow 
base,  broadens  outwardly  to  a  somewhat  squat  end,  the  eyes 
on  each  side  of  its  attenuated  root  appearing  drawn  together. 
His  face  bulges  into  high  cheek  bones ;  his  mouth  is  large 
and  grotesque,  the  jaw-bone  contracted,  the  upper  jaw  pro- 
jecting over  the  lower,  but  with  fine,  white  teeth  ;  the  chin  cut 
away,  and  his  ears  slightly  pricked  forward.  Not  only  the 
head  and  face,  but  the  entire  body  as  well,  is  covered  with  a 
profusion  of  hair,  which,  when  freed  of  its  enclogging  dirt 
and  oil,  is  soft  and  glossy.  Like  most  savage  peoples,  the 
effluvium  of  his  skin,  offensive  as  it  naturally  is,  is  very 
much  exaggerated  by  the  fish-oil  he  uses  in  the  anointment 
of  his  person. 

Almost  exclusively  directed  on  the  means  of  procuring 
sustenance,  the  intellect  of  the  Australian  operates  wholly 
within  the  range  of  the  rudest  bodily  senses.  But  inside 


3 1  o  Life  and  Immortality. 

that  simple,  elementary  sphere  he  displays  no  little  nimble- 
ness  and  dexterity.  In  tracking  and  running  down  his  prey 
he  is  unsurpassed.  His  weapons,  though  of  the  most  primi- 
tive forms,  are  well  adapted  for  the  purposes  of  the  chase. 
Rude  and  uncouth  as  his  culinary  and  domestic  apparatus 
appear,  yet  they  serve  equally  well  the  objects  for  which 
they  were  designed.  Some  imitative  facility,  or  rude  sense 
of  elementary  art,  is  possessed  by  him,  as  is  evidenced  by 
the  crude  figures  of  sharks,  lizards  and  other  animals  that 
may  be  seen  carved  in  caves  in  the  north-east  of  Australia, 
and  on  the  rocks  of  New  South  Wales.  That  he  has  some 
exuberance  of  rude  sense  is  still  further  shown  in  his  lan- 
guage, which,  within  its  very  circumscribed  sensuous  sphere, 
is  fairly  expressive  and  complete,  and  likewise  in  the  ease 
with  which  he  learns  to  chatter  the  languages  of  peoples 
with  whom  he  has  been  thrown  into  contact. 

Outside  the  circle  described,  all  is  blank  to  the  Australian. 
He  has  no  architecture,  no  pottery  and  almost  no  weaving, 
and  may  be  said  to  have  no  religion.  His  sensations  may 
scarcely,  if  at  all,  be  said  to  have  attained  the  dignity  of 
sentiments,  much  less  that  of  sentimentalities.  The  man 
domineers  over  the  woman,  who  is  as  much  his  property  as 
his  boomerang  or  dingo.  Male  offspring  are  held  in  consid- 
erable estimation,  and  a  father  will  bewail  the  death  of  a  son 
for  months,  and  even  for  years.  Old  men  and  old,  infirm 
women,  on  the  other  hand,  are  cruelly  abandoned,  and  left 
to  starve  to  death,  for  they  are  considered  worthless  and  a 
burden,  and  consumers  of  the  food  that  should  go  to  the 
support  of  the  young  and  physically  strong.  During  the 
summer  they  roam  about  naked,  utterly  strangers  to  shame, 
which  seems  not  to  be  innate  to  their  natures.  Wives  are 
accounted  an  item  in  a  man's  chattels,  the  stealing  of  which 
being  met  with  some  definite  punishment.  Caves,  where 
they  abound,  afford  shelter  and  security  for  some  of  the 
tribes,  but  where  these  are  not  found,  screens  of  twigs  and 
bushes  covered  with  leaves  or  turf,  or  logs  of  wood  and 


Untiitored  Man.  3 1 1 

turf,  serve  for  protection  and  cover  for  a  few  days  or  weeks, 
till  the  pursuit  of  food  calls  them  elsewhere. 


AUSTRALIAN  AT  HOME. 
Returned  from  the  Chase  with  Kangaroo. 


312  Life  and  Immortality. 

Thrift  is  unknown  to  the  Australian.  His  life  alternates 
between  satiety  and  semi-starvation.  In  summer  he  goes 
naked,  but  in  winter  he  wraps  himself  in  kangaroo  skins. 
A  girdle  of  hair  bound  about  his  loins  holds  his  dowak,  as 
his  digging-stick  is  called,  and  an  apron  of  skins  suspended 
from  the  girdle  affords  a  protection  from  shrubs.  His  food 
consists  largely  of  animals,  which  he  devours  alive,  and 
includes  lizards,  snakes,  the  heads  being  rejected,  frogs, 
white  ants,  larvae  and  moths.  Other  animals  are  roasted, 
showing  that  the  Australian  knows,  contrary  'to  an  opinion 
that  once  prevailed,  the  method  of  kindling  a  fire.  In 
seasons  of  dearth,  when  there  is  a  paucity  of  food-material, 
cannibalism  is  general.  He  then  makes  an  attack  upon  a 
neighboring  tribe  who  is  his  enemy,  and  if  he  cannot  obtain 
food  in  this  manner,  he  scruples  not  to  fall  back  upon  his 
wife  and  his  children.  One  obligation  of  the  wife  is  to  keep 
her  husband  supplied  with  vegetable  food,  such  as  the  roots 
of  the  wild  yam,  seeds  of  the  acacia,  sophorae,  leaves  of  the 
grass-tree,  etc.  Failing  to  produce  a  sufficiency,  she  is  lib- 
erally treated  with  maulings  and  spearings,  so  that  a  wife 
generally  appears  bruised  and  gashed  all  over  her  body. 

Among  the  different  tribes  of  Australians,  the  boomerang 
is  the  principal  weapon.  This  is  a  flat  stick,  three  feet  in 
length,  and  curves  at  the  centre.  It  is  thrown  into  the  air 
among  birds,  jerks  in  a  zigzag,  spiral  or  circular  fashion,  and 
when  thrown  by  a  person  skilled  in  its  use  is  sure  to  bring 
down  a  few  individuals  at  every  throwing.  Besides  this 
weapon  they  have  the  throwing-stick,  flint-pointed  spears, 
shields,  stone-hatchets,  digging-sticks,  netting-needles,  nets 
of  sinews,  fibres  or  hairs,  water-skins  and  canoes. 

No  government  exists  among  this  people  outside  that  of 
the  family,  and  no  laws  except  certain  traditionary  rules  about 
property,  As  for  their  religion,  they  have  little  save  their 
terror  of  ghosts  and  demons,  and  certain  superstitious  tradi- 
tional rites  applicable  to  epochs  in  a  man's  life,  but  more  espe- 
cially so  at  the  time  of  his  burial.  At  ten  years  of  age,  a  boy 


Untutored  Man.  3 1 3 

is  covered  with  blood  ;  at  ten  to  fourteen,  he  is  circumcised 
in  the  north  and  south  of  Australia,  but  not  in  the  west  or  on 
the  Murray  River ;  and  at  twenty,  he  is  tattooed  or  scarred. 
Felicity  after  death  is  the  reward  of  proper  burial,  but  a  man 
dying  in  battle  or  rotting  in  a  field  becomes  an  evil  genius. 

No  more  perfect  example  of  tribal  organization  exists  than 
that  of  the  tribes  of  Australasia.  In  a  very  large  proportion 
of  existing  tribes,  the  tribe  is  an  aggregate  of  several  stocks 
or  distinct  bodies  of  kindred,  the  persons  composing  the  tribes 
being  included  in  stocks  which  are,  or  are  accounted,  distinct 
from  each  other.  Two  tribal  customs,  namely,  the  prohibi- 
tion of  marriage  between  persons  of  the  same  stock,  and  the 
reckoning  of  kinship  through  females  only,  so  that  children 
are  accounted  of  the  stock  of  their  mother,  sustain  this  or- 
ganization. Persons  of  the  same  stock,  too,  owe  duties  to 
each  other,  and  are  to  some  extent  participants  in  each  other's 
liabilities.  An  injury  done  by  a  man  is  an  injury  done  by  his 
stock,  which  may  be  avenged  upon  any  member  thereof;  or 
an  injury  done  to  a  man  is  an  injury  done  by  his  stock, 
for  which  every  member  of  it  is  bound  to  seek  ven- 
geance. As  a  consequence  of  these  customs,  a  husband 
must  be  of  a  different  stock  from  his  wife  or  wives,  and  there- 
fore must  be  accounted  of  a  different  stock  from  his  children; 
and  if  he  has  wives  of  different  stocks,  then  their  respective 
children  are  accounted  of  different  stocks.  More  than  one 
stock,  it  will  thus  be  perceived,  is  represented  in  every  house- 
hold. And  since  a  man  owes  duties  to  his  stock — the  duties 
of  acknowledged  blood-relationship — while  to  those  of  his 
family  who  are  not  of  his  stock,  there  being  nothing  but  the 
accident  of  birth  to  unite  him,  it  necessarily  follows  that  the 
family  among  these  tribes  has  very  little  cohesion. 

Wholly  sensuous  is  the  language  of  the  Australian,  their 
abstraction  tending  only  in  the  way  of  arithmetic  as  far  as 
the  number  five,  and  that  itself  being  quite  an  unusual 
stretch.  Polysyllabic  as  it  is  in  formation,  and  having  the 
accent  on  the  penultimate,  it  is  not  at  all  inharmonious. 


3 14  Life  and  Immortality. 

Though  it  comprehends  many  divergent  forms,  yet  they  seem 
to  be  all  fundamentally  connected,  constituting  a  group  entirely 
isolated  from  any  of  the  linguistic  families  of  the  other  parts 
of  the  world.  Within  its  narrow  confines  the  language  is 
well  developed  and  sensuously  copious  and  expressive. 

Like  almost  all  other  savages,  the  native  Australians  are 
rapidly  disappearing  before  the  spread  of  civilization.  The 
European  settlers  crowd  them  out  of  all  the  more  fertile  and 
habitable  lands,  pressing  them  more  and  more  into  the  desert 
of  the  interior,  where  they  find  it  exceedingly  hard  to  obtain 
in  their  roving,  unsettled  lives  the  necessary  means  of  sub- 
sistence. Great  numbers  are  thus  forced  to  succumb  to 
deprivations  not  of  their  own  bringing,  and  not  a  few 
to  the  diseases  and  vices  brought  among  them  by  the 
new  possessors  of  their  domains.  The  lowest  estimate  of 
their  number,  prior  to  the  settlement  of  Europeans  among 
them,  gives  over  150,000,  but  the  natives  still  surviving 
scarcely  figure  one-half  of  that  population.  It  is  only  a 
question  of  a  decade  or  two  when  the  Australian,  like  the 
Tasmanian,  who  was  once  his  near  neighbor,  will  have  van- 
ished from  off  the  face  of  the  country,  leaving  behind  him 
his  implements  of  war  and  the  chase,  his  culinary  and 
domestic  apparatus,  and  the  rude  carvings  of  his  hands  in 
caves  and  in  rocks,  as  the  principal  evidences  of  his  earthly 
existence. 

By  competent  critics  the  Australian  is  pronounced  to  be 
the  most  degraded  of  human  beings,  and  the  lowest  type  of 
man.  In  reason,  love,  generosity,  conscience  and  mere 
responsibility  he  is  the  inferior  of  many  of  the  lower  ani- 
mals, and  in  the  erection  of  a  house  for  comfort,  shelter  and 
security  he  is  surpassed  by  creatures  even  as  low  in  the 
scale  as  the  worms  and  insects.  It  is  true,  when  hunger  has 
to  be  met,  that  he  has  shown  some  skill  in  the  manufacture 
of  implements  necessary  to  the  obtainment  of  his  food,  and 
also  in  resisting  the  attacks  of  his  own  kind  and  of  the  nat- 
ural enemies  by  which  he  is  surrounded.  There  is  no  doubt 


Untutored  Man,  3 1 5 

that  he  is  well  satisfied  with  his  condition  in  life,  and  could 
hardly  be  induced  to  exchange  it  for  another.  He  has 
doubtless  fulfilled  the  purpose  of  his  being  in  the  world,  and 
unable  to  cope  in  the  struggle  for  existence  with  a  superior 
civilization  must  succumb  to  the  latter  which  is  better  fitted 
to  endure,  a  sad  but  impressive  lesson  which  is  the  teaching 
of  every  chapter  of  the  world's  geologic  story. 


ItlVlflG  SOOIiS. 


ALL  things  were  made  by  the  Word  of  God.  In  this 
Word  was  life,  spirit  or  energy.  Without  it  was  not 
anything  made  that  was  made.  Hence,  says  Elihu,  "  the 
Spirit  of  God  hath  made  me,  and  the  breath  of  the  Almighty 
hath  given  me  life;"  or,  as  Moses  testifies,  "  the  Lord  God 
formed  man,  the  dust  of  the  ground,  and  breathed  into  his 
nostrils  the  breath  of  lives  ;  and  man  became  a  LIVING  SOUL. 

Now,  if  it  be  asked  what  the  Scriptures  define  a  living 
soul  to  be,  the  answer  is  a  living  natural,  or  animal  body? 
whether  of  beasts,  birds,  fish  or  men.  The  phrase  living 
creature  is  the  exact  synonyme  of  living  soul.  The  words 
nephesh  chayiah  are  in  Hebrew  the  signs  of  the  ideas  ex- 
pressed by  Moses,  nephesh  signifying  creature,  life,  soul,  or 
breathing  frame  from  the  verb  breathe,  and  chayiah,  a  noun 
from  the  verb  to  live,  of  life.  Nephesh  chayiah  is  the  genus 
which  includes  all  species  of  living  creatures.  In  the  common 
version  of  the  Scriptures,  it  is  rendered  living  soul,  and,  there- 
fore, under  this  form  of  expression  they  speak  of  all  flesh 
which  breathes  in  air,  earth  and  sea. 

From  the  evidence  adduced  a  man  then  is  merely  a  body 
of  life  in  the  sense  of  his  being  an  animal  or  living  creature — 
nephesh  chayiah  adam.  Therefore,  as  a  natural  man,  he  has 
no  preeminence  over  the  creatures  God  has  made.  Moses 
makes  no  distinction  between  him  and  them,  for  he  calls 
them  all  living  souls,  breathing  the  breath  of  lives.  His 
language,  literally  rendered,  says,  "  and  God  said,  the  waters 
shall  produce  abundantly  sheretz  chayiah  nephesh  the  reptile 
living, soul;"  and  again,  "kal  nephesh  chayiah  erameshat  every 


Living  Souls,  3 1 7 

living  soul  creeping."  In  another  verse,  "  let  the  earth  bring 
forth  nephesh  chayiah  the  living  soul  after  its  kind,  cattle,  and 
creeping  thing,  and  beast  of  the  earth  after  its  kind,"  and 
lekol  rumesh  ol  taretz  asher  bu  nephesh  chayiah  to  everything 
creeping  upon  the  earth  which  has  in  it  living  breath,"  that 
is,  the  breath  of  lives.  And  lastly,  "  whatsoever  Adam  called 
nephesh  chayiah  the  living  soul  that  was  the  name  thereof." 

Not  even  are  quadrupeds  and  men  living  souls,  but  they 
are  vivified  by  the  same  breath  and  spirit.  Neshemet  chayim, 
or  the  breath  of  lives,  and  not  the  breath  of  life  as  the  text  of 
the  common  version  has  it,  is  said  to  be  in  the  inferior  creat- 
ures as  well  as  in  man.  Chayim  in  the  Hebrew  is  in  the 
plural  nnmber,  and  therefore  the  words  neshemet  chayim 
should  be  rendered  as  above.  Thus,  God  said,  "  I  bring  a 
flood  of  waters  upon  the  earth  to  destroy  all  flesh  wherein  is 
ruach  chayim  spirit  of  lives."  And  in  another  place,  "  they 
went  in  to  Noah  into  the  ark,  two  and  two  of  all  flesh,  in 
which  is  ruach  chayim  spirit  of  lives."  And  all  flesh  died  that 
moved  upon  the  earth,  both  of  fowl,  and  of  cattle,  and  of 
beast,  and  of  every  creeping  thing,  and  every  man ;  all  in 
whose  nostrils  was  neshemet  ruach  chayim,  BREATH  OF  SPIRIT 
OF  LIVES.  Now,  as  has  been  previously  affirmed,  it  was  the 
neshemet  chayim  with  which  God,  according  to  the  testimony 
of  Moses,  inflated  the  nostrils  of  Adam.  If,  therefore,  this 
were  a  particle  of  the  divine  essence,  as  it  is  declared,  which 
became  the  immortal  soul  in  man,  then  all  other  animals 
have  likewise  immortal  souls,  for  they  all  received  breath  of 
spirit  of  lives  in  common  with  him.  Begotten  of  the  same 
Invisible  Power,  and  formed  from  the  substance  of  a  common 
earth  mother,  man  and  beasts  were  animated  by  the  same 
spirit,  and  constituted  to  be  living  breathing  frames,  though 
of  different  species,  and  in  God  they  lived,  and  moved,  and 
had  their  continued  being. 

Returning  to  the  philology  of  our  subject,  it  is  to  be 
remarked  that  by  a  metonymy,  or  a  figure  of  speech  where 
the  container  is  put  for  the  thing  contained,  and  conversely, 


3 1 8  Life  and  Immortality. 

nephesh,  breathing  frame,  is  put  for  neshemet  ruach  chayim, 
which,  when  in  motion,  causeth  the  frame  to  respire.  Hence 
nephesh  signifies  not  only  breath  and  soul,  but  also  life,  or 
those  mutually  affective,  positive  and  negative  principles  in 
all  living  creatures,  whose  closed  circuits  cause  motion  of  and 
in  their  frames.  By  Moses  these  principles,  or  qualities  of 
the  same  thing,  are  apparently  styled  the  Riiach  Elohim,  or 
by  Timothy  the  Spirit  of  Him  "  who  only  hath  immortality, 
dwelling  in  the  light  which  no  man  can  approach  unto,  whom 
no  man  hath  seen,  nor  can  see,"  and  which,  when  the  word 
was  spoken,  first  moved  upon  the  face  of  the  waters,  and 
afterwards  disengaged  the  light,  evolved  the  expanse,  gath- 
ered the  waters  together,  brought  forth  the  green  vegetation, 
manifested  the  celestial  universe,  vitalized  the  breathing 
frames  of  the  dry  land,  the  firmament  and  the  seas,  and 
formed  man  in  His  own  image  and  likeness.  This  ruach,  or 
spirit,  was  the  instrumental  principle  commissioned  by  the 
glorious  Increate  for  the  elaboration  of  the  natural  world, 
the  erection  of  this  earthly  house,  and  its  equipment  with 
living  souls  of  every  species ;  and  it  is  this  same  instrumen- 
tally  formative  power  that,  together  with  the  neshemeh,  or 
breath,  that  keeps  them  from  perishing,  or  returning  to  the 
dust.  "  If  God  set  his  heart  against  man,  He  will  withdraw 
to  himself  ruachu  venesliemetu,  that  is,  His  spirit  and  His 
breath  ;  all  flesh  shall  "  perish  together,  and  man  shall  turn 
again  to  dust."  "  By  the  neshemet  el"  or  breath  of  God,  "  frost 
is  given."  Speaking  of  reptiles  and  beasts,  David  saith, 
"thou  withdrawest  ruachem — their  spirit — they  die;  and  to 
their  dust  they  return.  Thou  sendest  forth  rnheck — thy 
spirit — they  are  created." 

From  this  cumulative  evidence  it  is  manifest  that  the  ruach 
is  all-pervading.  It  is  in  heaven,  in  sheol,  or  in  the  dust  of  the 
deepest  hollow ;  in  the  uttermost  depths  of  the  sea ;  in  the 
darkness  as  well  as  in  the  light ;  in  all  things  animate  and 
inanimate.  In  the  broadest,  or  I  may  say,  in  an  illimitable 
sense,  it  is  an  universal  principle.  It  is  the  substratum  of  all 


Living  Souls. 


319 


REPRESENTATIVE  LIFE  OF  WESTERN  ASIA. 
Illustrating  the  Scriptural  Idea  of  Living  Souls. 

motion,  whether  manifested  in  the  revolutions  of  the  planets, 
in  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  sea,  in  winds  and  storms  and 
tempests,  or  in  the  organisms  of  plants  and  animals.  The 
atmospheric  expanse  is  charged  with  it ;  but  it  is  not  the  air. 
Animals  and  plants  breathe  it,  but  it  is  not  their  breath ;  yet 
without  it,  though  rilled  with  air,  they  would  die.  Neshemet 
el,  or  atmospheric  air,  is  the  breath  of  God,  as  Job  puts  it,  or 
the  mighty  expanse,  as  affirmed  by  Moses.  What  the  ruack, 
or  spirit,  is,  none  with  certainty  can  say.  Extending  from  the 
centre  of  the  earth,  and  thence  in  all  directions  through  the 
immensity  of  space,  is  the  Ruach  Eloltim,  whose  existence  is 
demonstrable  from  the  phenomena  of  the  natural  order  of 


320  Life  and  Immortality. 

things.  It  penetrates  where  neshemet  el  cannot  penetrate,  but 
when  speaking  of  the  motivity  and  sustentation  of  organized 
dust,  or  souls,  they  co-exist  with  them,  the  Ruach  Elohim 
becoming  the  ruach  chayim,  or  spirit  of  lives;  the  neshemet  el, 
the  neshemet  chayim,  or  breath  of  lives,  and  both  together  in 
the  elaboration  and  support  of  life,  the  neshemet  ruach  chayim, 
or  breath  of  the  spirit  of  lives.  Living  creatures,  or  souls,  are 
not  animated,  as  is  erroneously  supposed,  by  a  vital  principle 
which  is  capable  of  disembodied  existence.  On  the  contrary, 
souls  are  made  living  by  the  coetaneous  operation  of  the 
ruach  chayim  and  the  neshemet  chayim  upon  their  organized 
tissues  according  to  certain  fixed  laws,  called  natural  laws. 
When  the  as  yet  occult  laws  of  the  all-pervading  ruach,  or 
spirit,  shall  be  made  known,  men  will  be  astonished  at  their 
ignorance  respecting  living  souls,  as  we  are  at  the  notion  of 
the  ancients  that  their  immortal  gods  resided  in  the  stocks 
and  the  stones  they  so  ignorantly  worshipped. 

Though  lent  to  the  creatures  of  the  natural  world  for  the 
allotted  period  of  their  living  existence,  yet  the  ruach  chayim 
and  neshemet  chayim  are  still  God's  breath  and  God's  spirit, 
and  to  distinguish  them  from  the  expanse  of  air  and  spirit 
in  their  totality,  they  are  sometimes  specifically  styled  "  the 
spirit  of  man"  and  "the  spirit  of  the  beast,"  or  collectively 
"the  spirits  of  all  flesh,"  and  "their  breath."  Thus  it  is 
written  in  Ecclesiastes,  "  they  have  all  one  ruach,  or  spirit, 
so  that  man  hath  no  preeminence  over  a  beast;  for  all  is 
vanity  or  vapor."  "  All  go  to  one  place ;  all  are  of  the  dust, 
and  all  turn  to  dust  again."  And  in  the  sense  of  supplying 
to  every  living  creature,  or  soul,  spirit  and  breath,  Jehovah 
is  styled  by  Moses  in  the  book  of  Numbers, — "  God  of  the 
spirits  of  all  flesh" 

Enough  has  been  advanced  to  show  the  Scriptural  import 
of  the  text  already  quoted,  that  "  the  Lord  God  formed  man, 
the  dust  of  the  ground,  and  breathed  into  his  nostrils  the 
breath  of  lives  ;  and  man  became  a  living  soul."  The  sim- 
ple, obyious  and  undogmatic  meaning  of  this  is,  that  the 


Living  Souls.  321 

dust  being  animalized,  and  then  organized,  was  next  set  in 
motion  by  the  inrush  of  the  air  through  his  nostrils  into  his 
lungs  according  to  natural  laws.  This  phenomenon  was  the 
neshemet  el,  or  "  breath  of  God,"  breathing  into  him ;  and  as 
it  was  the  pabulum  of  life  to  all  creatures  constituted  of  dust, 
it  was  very  expressively  styled  the  "breath  of  lives"  and  not 
the  "  breath  of  life''  God  breathes  into  every  man  athis  birth 
the  breath  of  lives  to  this  day,  and  there  can  be  no  reason, 
Scriptural  or  otherwise,  why  we  should  deny  that  He 
breathed  it  into  Adam  as  He  hath  done  into  the  nostrils  of 
his  posterity  by  the  operation  of  natural  laws.  Man,  as  soon 
as  he  began  to  respire,  like  the  embryo  passing  from  foetal 
to  infant  life,  "  became  a  living  soul,"  that  is,  nephesk  chayiah, 
a  living,  breathing  frame,  or  body  of  life.  All  kinds  of  flesh, 
whether  of  man,  beast,  fowl  and  creeping  thing,  are  made 
alive  by  the  same  breath  and  spirit.  They  all  become,  in 
consequence,  living  souls,  so  that,  having  a  oneness  of  spirit, 
a  man  hath  no  superiority  over  a  beast. 

Having  now  proved,  as  we  think,  beyond  the  possibility 
of  a  doubt,  that  men  and  beasts  "  have  all  one  ruach,  or 
spirit,"  and  hence  are  all  living  souls,  we  now  approach  a 
form  of  life,  termed  vegetable  life,  about  which  the  Script- 
ures have  little  to  say.  Neshemet  el,  or  atmospheric  air,  is 
just  as  essential  to  plants  as  to  animals.  Deprived  of  it  they 
wither  and  die.  No  less  necessary  is  the  all-pervading  ruach, 
or  spirit.  It  is  in  the  air,  though  not  of  the  air.  Plants, 
equally  with  animals,  breathe  it,  but  it  is  not  their  breath. 
Without  it,  even  though  filled  with  air,  they  would  perish. 
Perhaps  it  is  the  base  of  each  of  the  elementary  constituents 
of  the  air.  Uncombined,  may  it  not  be  that  wonderful  fluid 
whose  explosions  are  heard  in  the  thunder,  whose  fiery  bolts 
overthrow  the  loftiest  towers  and  rive  the  sturdy  monarchs 
of  the  woods,  and  whose  influence,  though  in  less  intensity, 
gives  polarity  to  light,  the  needle,  and  the  brain? 

Living  plants  are  a  part  and  parcel  of  the  life  of  our 
globe.  They  preceded  in  the  grand  scheme  of  creation 


322  Life  and  Immortality. 

animal  existences.  Low  down  in  the  scale  of  life  are  forms 
about  which  it  cannot  be  predicated  these  are  plants  and  these 
are  animals.  Scientists  are  unable  to  say  where  plant-life 
ends  and  animal-life  begins.  No  hard-and-fast  line  can  be 
drawn  beween  the  two  vast  kingdoms  of  life,  and  it  is  often 
wholly  impossible  to  decide  whether  we  are  dealing  with  an 
animal  or  a  plant.  There  can  be  no  question  that  the  earli- 
est life  was  vegetable  by  nature,  and  that  its  habitat  was  the 
primeval  ocean.  This  is  no  less  the  teaching  of  science  than 
that  of  the  Scriptures.  From  some  such  life,  originating 
de  novo  as  the  Spirit  of  God  passed  over  the  waters,  the  two 
great  branches  of  animate  nature  may  have  taken  their  rise. 
What  the  form  of  this  life  may  have  been,  whether  cellular 
or  a  mere  mass  of  formless  protoplasm,  the  mind  of  man 
cannot  asseverate.  It  is  a  mystery,  and  will  doubtless  ever 
remain  as  such  to  finite  intelligence.  That  this  life,  no  mat- 
ter how  apparently  insignificant  it  must  have  been,  breathed 
in  its  own  simple  fashion,  that  is,  by  the  coetaneous  opera- 
tion of  the  ruach  chayim  and  the  neshemet  chayim  upon  its 
simple  substance  in  accordance  with  natural  law,  there  can 
be  no  dispute.  Breathing  is  not  always  conditioned  by  the 
existence  of  nostrils.  Plants  respire,  or,  in  other  words, 
take  in  carbonic  acid  from  the  air  through  their  stomata,  or 
mouths,  which  they  separate  into  its  components  of  carbon 
and  oxygen,  appropriating  the  former,  which  they  build  into 
solid  matter,  but  usually  throwing  off  the  latter  into  the 
great  receptacle  of  atmosphere  from  which  it  was  extracted. 
Even  a  moner,  which  has  no  distinction  of  parts,  may  be 
said  to  breathe,  but  it  breathes  by  means  of  its  whole  exter- 
nal surface,  for  neshemeh  and  ruach  are  as  necessary  to  it  as 
to  man  himself.  It  will  thus  be  obvious  that  plants  are  liv- 
ing, breathing  frames,  or  bodies  of  life,  and  hence  are  as 
much  entitled  to  be  considered  as  living  souls  as  animals 
are.  Let  but  God  withdraw  his  ruach,  or  spirit,  from  them, 
and  they  die  and  to  their  dust  return.  Surely  no  more  could 
be  predicated  of  animals. 


COHSGIOUSflESS 


PLANTS,  it  has  been  vaguely  asserted,  differ  from  animals 
by  not  having  the  power  of  movement.  Rather  should 
it  be  stated  that  plants  acquire  and  display  this  power  when 
it  is  to  their  advantage.  This  will  be  found  to  be  of  com- 
paratively rare  occurrence,  as  they  are  affixed  to  the  ground, 
and  food  is  brought  to  them  by  the  air  and  rain.  Evidence 
of  the  very  high  position  a  plant  may  attain  in  the  scale  of 
organization  may  be  seen  when  we  look  at  one  of  the  more 
perfect  tendril-bearers.  As  a  polypus  adjusts  its  tentacula 
for  action,  so  a  plant  places  its  tendrils.  If  the  tendril  be  dis- 
placed, it  sets  to  work  to  right  itself.  Acted  on  by  the  light, 
it  bends  towards  or  from  it,  or  disregards  it  altogether,  which- 
ever course  may  be  the  most  advantageous.  For  several 
days  the  tendrils  or  internodes  of  the  plant,  or  both,  sponta- 
neously or  otherwise  revolve  with  a  steady  motion.  But 
should  they  strike  some  object,  they  curl  quickly  around  it, 
grasp  it  with  wonderful  firmness,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
hours  contract  into  spirals,  dragging  up  the  stems,  and  form- 
ing most  excellent  springs.  All  external  movements  now 
cease,  and  by  growth  the  tissues  soon  become  surprisingly 
strong  and  durable. 

Such  a  movement,  as  has  just  been  considered,  is  a  widely 
prevalent  one  in  plants,  and  is  essentially  of  the  same  nature 
as  that  of  the  stem  of  a  climbing  plant,  which  successively 
bends  to  all  points  of  the  compass,  so  that  the  tip  is  made  to 
revolve.  This  movement  has  been  called  revolving  nutation 
by  some  writers,  and  circumnutation  by  others.  In  the  case 
of  the  circumnutating  movement  of  the  tip  of  the  radicle  of 


324  Life  and  Immortality. 

some  plants,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  is  it  that  affords 
the  radicle  some  slight  assistance  in  penetrating  the  ground. 
But  whether  or  not  a  radicle,  when  surrounded  by  softened 
earth,  is  aided  in  making  a  passage  for  itself  by  circumnu- 
tating,  one  thing  is  certain,  that  is,  that  this  movement,  by 
guiding  the  radicle  along  a  line  of  least  resistance,  can  hardly 
fail  to  be  of  high  importance.  Should,  however,  a  radicle  in 
its  downward  growth  break  obliquely  into  any  crevice,  or  an 
opening  left  by  a  decayed  root,  or  one  made  by  the  larva  of 
an  insect,  and  more  especially  by  worms,  the  circumnutating 
movement  of  the  tip  will  materially  aid  it  in  following  such 
open  passages.  Not  only  our  own  observation,  but  also  those 
of  such  eminent  authorities  as  Darwin  and  Hensen,  conclu- 
sively show  that  roots  commonly  run  down  the  old  burrows 
of  worms. 

But  radicles  of  seedlings,  as  well  as  those  of  more  vigor- 
ous plants,  would  pass  over  stones,  roots  and  other  obstacles, 
which  they  must  necessarily  encounter  in  the  soil.  This 
they  are  abundantly  able  to  do,  for  they  are  exceedingly 
sensitive  just  above  their  apices,  and  bend  like  a  tendril 
towards  the  touching  object.  When,  however,  one  side  of 
the  apex  is  pressed  by  any  object,  the  growing  part  bends 
away  from  that  object,  and  this  seems  a  beautiful  adaptation 
for  avoiding  obstacles  in  the  soil,  and  for  following  the  lines 
of  least  resistance. 

So  feeble  is  the  circumnutating  movement  of  the  terminal 
growing  part,  both  of  the  primary  and  secondary  radicles, 
that  it  can  assist  them  but  little  in  penetrating  the  ground, 
excepting  when  the  superficial  layer  is  very  soft  and  moist. 
But  it  must  aid  them  materially  when  they  chance  to  break 
obliquely  into  cracks,  or  into  burrows  that  have  been  made 
by  earth-worms  or  larvae.  Moreover,  combined  as  it  is  with 
the  sensitiveness  of  the  tip  of  the  radicle  to  contact,  it  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  of  the  highest  importance,  for  as  the  tip  is 
always  endeavoring  to  bend  to  all  sides,  it  will  press  on  all 
sides,  and  will  thus  be  able  to  discriminate  between  the 


Consciousness  in  Plants. 


325 


SEEDLING  OF  WINTER  GRAPE. 
Earth  Cut  Away  to  Show  Directions  Taken  by  Tip  of  Radicle  in  Avoiding  a  Stone. 


harder  and  softer  adjoining  surfaces.  Consequently,  it  will 
tend  to  bend  from  the  harder  soil,  and  will  thus  take  the 
directions  of  the  least  resistance.  So  it  will  act  if  it  meet 
with  a  stone  or  the  root  of  another  plant  in  the  soil,  as  must 
incessantly  occur.  If  the  tip  were  not  sensitive,  and  did  not 
excite  the  upper  part  of  the  radicle  to  bend  away,  whenever 
obstacles  were  encountered  at  right  angles  to  its  growing 
direction,  it  would  undoubtedly  be  liable  to  be  doubled  up 
into  a  contorted  mass.  But  with  radicles  growing  down 
inclined  plates  of  glass,  as  shown  by  experiment,  it  has  been 


326  Life  and  Immortality. 

observed  that  as  soon  as  the  tip  merely  touched  a  slip  of 
wood  cemented  across  the  plate,  the  entire  terminal  growing 
point  curved  away,  so  that  the  tip  soon  stood  at  right  angles 
to  its  former  direction ;  and  thus,  as  far  as  the  pressure  of 
the  surrounding  soil  would  permit,  would  it  be  with  an 
obstacle  encountered  in  the  ground.  Thick  and  strong  rad- 
icles, like  those  of  the  horse-chestnut,  are  endowed  with  less 
sensitiveness  than  more  delicate  ones,  and  would  therefore 
be  the  better  able  by  the  force  of  their  growth  to  overcome 
any  slight  impediment  to  their  progress.  Further,  as  radi- 
cles perceive  an  excess  of  moisture  in  the  air  on  one  side  and 
bend  towards  this  side,  it  is  reasonable  to  infer  that  they 
will  act  in  a  similar  manner  with  respect  to  moisture  in  the 
earth,  for  the  sensitiveness  of  moisture  resides  in  the  tip, 
which  determines  the  bending  of  the  upper  part.  May  not 
this  capacity  partly  account  for  the  extent  to  which  drain- 
pipes often  become  choked  with  roots  ?  The  direction  which 
the  apex  takes  at  each  successive  period  of  the  growth  of  a 
root,  ultimately  determines  its  whole  course.  It  is  therefore 
very  important  that  the  apex  should  follow  from  the  first  the 
most  advantageous  direction.  We  can  thus  understand  why 
sensitiveness  to  geotropism,  contact  and  moisture  should  all 
reside  in  the  tip,  and  why  it  should  determine  the  upper 
growing  part  to  bend  either  from  or  to  the  exciting  cause. 
Darwin  has  compared  a  radicle  with  a  burrowing  animal, 
such  as  a  mole,  which  wishes  to  penetrate  vertically  into  the 
ground.  By  a  process  of  circumnutation,  or  the  movement  of 
his  head  from  side  to  side,  he  is  enabled  to  feel  any  stone  or 
other  obstacle,  as  well  as  any  difference  in  hardness  of  soil 
that  may  exist,  and  will  therefore  turn  from  that  side;  but  if 
damper  on  one  side  than  on  the  other,  will  turn  thither  as  a 
more  suitable  hunting-ground.  Nevertheless,  after  each  inter- 
ruption, he,  guided  by  the  sense  of  gravity,  will  be  able  to  re- 
cover his  downward  direction  and  to  reach  to  a  greater  depth. 
Destruction  of  the  tip  of  a  radicle  does  not  prevent  the 
adjoining  part  from  bending,  if  this  part  has  already  received 


Consciousness  in  Plants.  327 

some  influence  from  the  tip.  As  with  a  horizontally  extended 
radicle,  whose  tip  has  been  cut  off  or  destroyed,  the  part 
which  should  bend  most  remains  motionless  for  many  days 
or  hours,  even  though  exposed  at  right  angles  to  the  full 
influence  of  gravity,  we  cannot  do  otherwise  than  conclude 
that  the  tip  alone  is  sensitive  to  this  power,  and  transmits 
some  stimulus  to  the  neighboring  parts,  thereby  causing 
them  to  bend.  Direct  evidence  of  such  transmission  has 
been  obtained.  When  a  radicle  was  left  extended  horizon- 
tally for  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half,  by  which  time  the 
supposed  influence  will  have  travelled  some  distance  from  the 
tip,  and  the  tip  was  then  cut  off,  the  radicle  subsequently 
became  bent,  although  it  was  placed  in  a  perpendicular  posi- 
tion. Terminal  portions  of  several  radicles  thus  treated  con- 
tinued for  some  time  to  grow  in  the  direction  of  their  newly- 
acquired  curvature,  for  being  destitute  of  tips  they  were  no 
longer  acted  upon  by  the  power  of  gravity.  New  vegetative 
points,  however,  appeared,  and  being  acted  on  by  this  influ- 
ence coursed  themselves  perpendicularly  downward  as  was 
their  custom. 

Investigation  having  shown  that  it  is  the  tip  of  the  radicle 
that  is  sensitive  to  geotropism  in  the  members  of  such 
distinct  families  as  the  Leguminosae,  Malvaceae,  Cucurbitaceae 
and  Gramineae,  which  may  be  represented  by  the  Clover, 
Mallow,  Gourd  and  Rye,  we  may  justly  infer  that  this  char- 
acter is  common  to  the  roots  of  most  seedling-plants. 
Whilst  a  root  is  penetrating  the  ground,  the  tip  must  take 
the  incipient  step,  as  it  has  to  determine  the  direction  of  the 
entire  root.  When,  however,  it  is  deflected  by  any  subter- 
ranean obstacle,  it  is  essential  that  a  considerable  length  of 
the  root  should  be  able  to  bend,  particularly  as  the  tip  itself 
grows  slowly  and  bends  but  little,  so  that  the  proper  down- 
ward course  should  be  recovered.  Immaterial  as  it  would 
seem  whether  the  entire  growing  part  should  be  so  sensitive 
to  geotropism  as  to  effect  this  movement,  or  that  it  should 
be  brought  about  by  an  influence  transmitted  exclusively 


328  Life,  and  Immortality. 

from  the  tip,  we  should,  however,  remember  that  it  is  the  tip 
that  is  sensitive  to  the  contact  of  hard  objects,  causing  the 
radicle  to  bend  away  from  them,  thus  directing  it  along  cer- 
tain lines  in  the  soil  where  the  least  opposition  interposes.  It  is 
again  the  tip  that  is  alone  sensitive,  at  least  in  some  instances, 
to  moisture,  causing  the  radicle  to  bend  towards  its  source. 
These  last  two  kinds  of  sensitiveness  conquer  for  a  time  the 
sensitiveness  to  geotropism,  which,  however,  ultimately  pre- 
vails. But  the  three  kinds  most  often  come  into  antagonism, 
first  one  prevailing,  and  then  the  other.  It  would,  therefore, 
be  an  advantage,  perhaps  a  necessity,  for  the  interweighing 
and  reconciling  of  these  different  kinds  of  sensitiveness, 
that  they  should  all  be  localized  in  the  same  group  of  cells 
which  have  to  transmit  the  command  to  the  adjoining  parts 
of  the  radicle,  necessitating  it  to  bend  to  or  from  the  source  of 
the  irritation. 

Though  generally  believed  by  authors  that  the  modifica- 
tion of  the  upper  or  lower  surfaces  of  a  radicle,  whereby 
Curvature  is  induced  in  the  proper  direction,  is  the  direct 
result  of  gravitation,  yet  there  can  be  no  question  from  all 
that  has  been  said  that  it  is  the  tip  alone  that  is  acted  on 
and  that  transmits  some  influence  to  the  adjoining  parts, 
causing  them  to  curve  in  a  downward  manner.  Gravity,  it 
would  seem,  does  not  act  in  a  more  direct  way  on  a  radicle 
than  it  does  on  any  lowly-organized  animal,  which  moves 
away  when  it  feels  some  weight  or  pressure. 

When  we  consider  what  we  have  written,  it  is  impossible 
not  to  be  impressed  with  the  resemblance  between  the  move- 
ments of  plants  and  many  of  the  actions  performed  by  the 
lower  animals.  With  plants  an  astonishingly  small  stimulus 
suffices.  One  plant  may  be  highly  sensitive  to  the  slightest 
continued  pressure,  while  a  closely-allied  form  just  as  highly 
sensitive  to  a  slight  momentary  touch.  The  habit  of  moving 
at  certain  periods  is  inherited  both  by  plants  and  animals ; 
and  other  points  of  similitude  have  been  specified.  But 
the  most  striking  resemblance  is  the  localization  of  their 


Consciousness  in  Plants.  329 

sensitiveness,  and  the  transmission  of  a  stimulus  from  the 
exciting  point  to  another,  which  consequently  moves.  Yet 
plants  do  not,  of  course,  possess  nerves  or  a  central  nervous 
system.  May  we  not  therefore  infer,  and  wisely  so,  too, 
that  with  animals  such  structures  but  serve  for  the  more 
perfect  transmission  of  impressions,  and  for  the  more  com- 
plete intercommunication  of  their  several  parts? 

No  structure  in  plants  seems  more  wonderful,  as  far  as  its 
functions  are  concerned,  than  the  tip  of  the  radicle.  Lightly 
pressed  or  burnt  or  cut,  it  transmits  an  influence  to  the  upper 
adjoining  part,  causing  it  to  bend  away  from  the  affected 
side.  But  more  surprising,  however,  is  the  fact  that  the  tip 
can  distinguish  between  a  slightly  harder  and  softer  object, 
by  which  it  is  simultaneously  pressed  on  opposite  sides. 
Let  the  radicle  be  pressed  by  a  similar  object  a  little  above 
the  tip,  and  it  will  be  noticed  that  the  pressed  part  does  not 
transmit  any  influence  to  the  more  distant  parts,  but  bends 
abruptly  towards  the  object.  Perceiving  the  air  to  be  moister 
on  one  side  than  the  other,  it  likewise  sends  out  an  influence 
to  the  upper  adjoining  part,  which  deflects  towards  the  source 
of  the  moisture.  When  excited  by  light,  the  neighboring  part 
bends  from  the  light ;  but  when  excited  by  gravitation,  the 
same  part  bends  towards  the  centre  of  gravity.  In  almost 
every  instance  the  ultimate  purpose  or  advantage  of  the  several 
movements  can  be  clearly  perceived.  Two,  or  perhaps  more, 
of  the  exciting  causes  often  act  simultaneously  on  the  tip,  and 
one  conquers  the  other,  doubtless  in  accordance  with  its  im- 
portance for  the  life  of  the  plant.  The  course  pursued  by  the 
radicle  in  penetrating  the  ground  being  determined  by  the 
tip,  has  acquired  for  it  the  diverse  kinds  of  sensitiveness  which 
it  possesses ;  and  it  is  hardly  an  exaggeration  to  assert  that 
the  tip  of  the  radicle  thus  endowed,  and  having  the  power  to 
direct  the  movements  of  the  adjoining  parts,  acts  like  the 
brain  of  one  of  the  lower  animals,  which  organ,  seated  within 
the  anterior  end  of  the  body,  receives  impressions  from  the 
sense-organs,  and  directs  their  several  movements. 


330  Life  and  Immortality. 

In  animals  possessed  of  a  nervous  system,  contractions 
only  follow  stimuli,  which  are  carried  to  the  contractile  ele- 
ments by  nervous  threads,  the  internal  energy  representing 
the  external  stimulus  being  called  nervous  energy  or  neu- 
rism.  But  where  a  nervous  system  does  not  exist,  as  is  the 
case  in  some  low  animals  and  in  all  plants,  external  stimuli 
must  be  justly  supposed  to  be  converted  into  the  same  form 
of  energy,  which  in  such  organisms  has  a  general  circulation 
throughout  the  contractile  protoplasm.  The  attainment  of 
some  position,  favorable  for  the  procurement  of  relief  from 
some  unpleasant  sensation,  or  the  acquisition  of  some  agree- 
able one,  or  for  both,  is  the  important  thing  directly  sub- 
served by  such  movements  in  the  generality  of  animals. 
While  we  have  the  best  of  reasons  for  believing  this  to  be 
true  in  the  vast  majority  of  animals,  because  fundamentally 
their  structure  is  similar  to  our  own,  yet  the  inference  that 
the  same  is  true  of  the  lowest  forms  of  life  is  justifiable  until 
it  is  proved  to  be  mistaken. 

Whatever  be  the  nature  of  any  movement,  whether  the 
projecting  of  portions  of  its  own  body-substance  as  pseudo- 
podia  in  the  primitive  animal,  the  movement  of  flagella  or 
cilia  in  more  specialized  forms,  or  the  turning  of  the  radicle 
of  a  plant-seedling  in  overcoming  some  obstacle,  there  is  no 
resisting  the  conclusion  that  the  functions  of  these  organs, 
when  once  called  into  existence,  are  due  to  stimuli  not  unlike 
those  which  affect  the  motions  of  the  limbs  of  the  higher 
animals,  and  that  the  preliminary  to  all  such  movements, 
which  are  not  automatic,  is  an  effort.  And  as  no  adaptive 
movement  is  automatic  the  first  time  it  is  performed,  effort, 
therefore,  may  be  regarded  as  the  immediate  source  of  all 
movement.  Now,  effort  is  a  conscious  state,  and  implies  a 
sense  of  resistance  to  be  overcome.  But  when  an  act  is  per- 
formed without  effort,  resistance  has  been  overcome,  and  the 
mechanism  requisite  for  its  performance  has  been  completed. 
Automatism  has  now  been  reached.  New  movements,  in 
their  incipiency,  necessarily  meet  with  resistance.  How  this 


Consciousness  in  Plants. 


331 


resistance  is  overcome,  there  seems  to  be  some  diversity  of 
opinion  among  physiologists  and  metaphysicians,  but  it  is 
generally  believed  that  some  such  mental  state  as  a  sensation 
or  a  desire,  which  may  or  may  not  stimulate  a  -natural  proc- 
ess as  an  intervening  element  in  the  circuit,  is  concerned  in 
its  subduement.  That  sense-perceptions  are  stimuli  to  the 
immediate  appearance  of  structural  changes  or  movements 
is  shown  by  the  production  of  color-changes  in  animals 
through  changes  in  the  condition  of  the  organs  of  sight  and 


TIP  OF  RADICLE  OF  SEEDLING  MAPLE. 
Lower  Cells  Show  Where  Consciousness  is  Supposed  to  Reside. 

in  the  bending  of  the  radicle  of  a  seedling-plant  a  short 
distance  above  its  tip  in  obedience  to  a  communication  from 
the  tip  of  a  sensation  of  hardness,  caused  by  contact  with  a 
stone  experienced  in  its  downward  progress  in  the  ground. 
New  conditions  bring  forth  new  acts  in  animals.  No  one 
can  deny  this  statement,  as  instances  of  its  truth  are  too  fre- 
quent to  believe  otherwise.  That  such  may  be  predicated  of 
plants,  which  have  not  the  ability,  as  a  rule,  to  meet  with 
new  conditions  by  reason  of  their  being  affixed  to  the  soil, 


332  Life  and  Immortality. 

very  few  persons  are  willing  to  admit ;  but  there  is  no  get- 
ting away  from  the  fact.  The  tip  of  the  radicle  of  a  plant 
not  only  has  the  power,  acting  as  a  brain,  as  it  would  seem, 
of  guiding  the  root  out  of  the  reach  of  an  obstacle  that  would 
be  injurious,  or  in  the  direction  of  water  when  it  would  be 
an  advantage,  but  a  tendril  has  also  the  ability,  in  obedience 
to  some  inherent  force,  of  making  its  way  to  a  support  that 
has  been  purposely  placed  in  the  near  distance  for  its  espe- 
cial benefit.  No  external  agencies,  which  the  materialistic 
naturalist  has  devised  for  accounting  for  the  movements  of 
plants  and  low  types  of  animal  existences  that  are  devoid  of 
a  visible  nervous  system,  can  possibly  explain  these  move- 
ments, which  are  only  explicable  on  the  theory  that  nervous 
energy  may  be  elaborated  and  be  distributed  without  such  a 
system  by  and  through  the  general  mass  of  the  plant  or 
animal,  or  by  and  through  such  parts  as  may  be  necessary 
to  its  good. 

No  one  who  has  experimented  with  the  Droseras  or  Sun- 
dews, can  have  failed  to  observe  the  extreme  sensitiveness 
which  resides  in  their  leaves.  That  these  plants  manifest  a 
comparatively  high  order  of  consciousness,  there  can  be  no 
question.  Try  them  with  insects,  or  rare  bits  of  meat,  as 
articles  of  diet,  and  in  a  few  hours,  if  vigorous  leaves  have 
been  experimented  with,  the  leaves  will  have  folded  around 
the  food  and  commenced  their  curious  process  of  assimilation. 
Mineral  substances,  such  as  bits  of  chalk,  magnesia  and  small 
pebbles,  have  no  such  effect.  They  seem  to  ignore  these 
things,  just  as  an  intelligent  animal  would  if  they  were  placed 
by  its  side.  Some  experiments  made  by  Mrs.  Treat,  several 
summers  ago,  go  far  to  confirm  the  statement  that  plants  are 
endowed  with  some  sort  of  consciousness.  Drosera  filiformis 
was  the  species  used  in  her  experiments.  Some  living  flies 
were  pinned  one-half  an  inch  from  the  leaves,  but  near  their 
apical  extremities.  In  forty  minutes  the  leaves  had  percepti- 
bly bent  toward  the  flies,  and  in  little  more  than  an  hour  had 
reached  the  prey,  the  legs  of  the  latter  being  entangled  and 


Consciousness  in  Plants.  333 

held  fast  by  the  tentacles  of  the  leaves.  Next,  the  flies  were 
removed  three-quarters  of  an  inch  further  from  the  leaves, 
but  the  latter,  even  though  bent  away  from  the  direction  of 
the  light,  failed  to  reach  them  at  this  distance.  What  was  it 
that  induced  the  leaves  to  stretch  in  the  direction  of  the  flies  ? 
Had  the  sun  been  shining  from  that  side,  it  might  be  said 
that  the  movement  of  the  leaves  was  influenced  by  its  light 
and  heat,  for  plants  as  a  general  rule  turn  toward  that  part 
of  the  heavens  where  these  energies  are  the  most  effective.  It 
cannot  be  that  they  were  produced  by  some  emanation  of 
moisture  from  the  bodies  of  the  flies,  or  by  any  influence  that 
might  be  exercised  by  the  vibratory  movements  of  their 
wings.  No  vain  imaginings  of  such  character  will  suffice  for 
their  explanation.  The  energy  necessary  to  explain  this 
phenomenon  must  come  from  within  the  leaves  themselves. 
There  was  felt  within  them  a  desire  for  food,  and  it  was  this 
desire  that  led  the  leaves  to  bend  away  from  the  light  and  in 
the  direction  of  the  objects  whose  presence  created  in  them 
that  sensation.  But  how  they  were  able,  in  the  absence  of 
any  visible  sense-organs,  to  determine  the  presence  of  these 
objects,  is  difficult  to  surmise.  That  they  are  sensitive  to 
contact  is  generally  conceded.  And  in  them,  no  doubt,  the 
sense  of  touch  is  keenly  developed.  Granting  this  to  be  the 
truth,  then  they  see,  as  a  blind  man  sees,  by  the  sense  of 
feeling.  Currents  of  air,  established  by  the  vibration  of  the 
insect's  wings,  impinging  upon  the  epidermis  of  the  leaves, 
affect  the  cells  beneath,  and  a  nervous  influence  is  started, 
guided  by  some  central  agency,  of  which  we  know  nothing, 
causing  the  leaves  to  bend  in  the  proper  direction.  But  why 
the  leaves  do  not  thus  bend  when  impinged  upon  by  currents 
other  than  those  produced  by  insects,  I  am  unable  to  say. 
Even  as  a  blind  man,  though  deaf,  is  able  through  the  sense 
of  touch  to  discriminate  moving  objects  by  the  currents  of  air 
they  excite,  so  it  may  be  presumed  that  the  leaves  of  Drosera 
are  endowed  with  the  same  wonderful  and  intelligent  capac- 
ity. Such  a  feeling  once  experienced  would  be  apt  to  be 


334  Life  and  Immortality. 

known  again,  for  it  would  become  fixed  in  consciousness  by 
a  process  of  memory.  That  Drosera,  whose  habits  are  more 
animal-like  than  plant-like,  must  occupy  a  high  position  in 
the  scale  of  vegetable  life,  there  can  be  no  reason  to  doubt 
from  what  has  been  said,  and  this  assumption  receives  a 
most  remarkable  confirmation  from  the  fact  that  there  are 
evidences,  not  apparent  however,  of  a  sort  of  nervous  system 
in  its  make-up,  as  shown  by  the  discovery  of  Darwin  that  by 
pricking  a  certain  point  in  a  leaf  one-half  of  its  substance 
becomes  paralyzed. 

Wonderful  as  these  facts  are,  yet  they  are  not  more  so 
than  some  recent  discoveries  made  by  Stahl  while  studying 
the  simple  movements  and  physical  conditions  of  certain 
low  plants  called  Myxomycetes.  In  their  young  stages  these 
plants  wander  from  the  parts  of  the  deposit  on  which  they 
are  creeping,  and  which  are  gradually  drying  up,  toward 
those  which  are  more  moist.  It  is  possible,  by  bringing 
moist  bodies  in  proximity  to  any  ramifications,  to  produce 
pseudopodia,  which  lift  themselves  from  the  deposit,  and 
soon  come  into  contact  with  the  moist  object,  so  as  to  enable 
the  whole  mass  of  the  plasmodium,  that  is,  the  large,  motile, 
membranous  protoplasmic  body  formed  by  the  coalescence 
of  the  swarm-spores  of  the  Myxomycetes,  to  migrate  thereon. 
But  on  the  entrance  of  the  plasmodia  into  the  fructifying 
condition,  the  Myxomycete  quits  the  moist  deposit,  technic- 
ally called  the  substratum,  and  creeps  upwards  on  to  the  sur- 
face of  dry  objects.  Unequal  distribution  of  warmth  in  the 
substratum  and  unequal  supplies  of  oxygen  and  chemical 
substances  soluble  in  water  also  cause  locomotion  in  these 
strange  organisms.  Let  the  plasmodia  come  into  contact  on 
one  side  with  solutions  of  saltpetre,  carbonate  of  potash  or 
common  salt,  and  they  at  once  withdraw  from  the  dangerous 
spot ;  but  an  infusion  of  tan,  or  a  dilute  solution  of  sugar, 
causes  a  flow  of  the  protoplasm  and  an  ultimate  transloca- 
tion  of  the  entire  plasmodial  mass  towards  the  source  of 
nourishment.  Some  solutions  have  an  attractive  or  repulsive 


Consciousness  in  Plants.  335 

effect,  but  this  is  in  accordance  with  the  degree  of  their 
concentration.  Unlike  what  is  so  natural  to  plants  in  gen- 
eral, the  Myxomycetes  seem  to  have  an  aversion  to  light,  as 
shown  by  their  disposition  to  withdraw  from  its  presence. 

How  such  tender  structures  as  the  Myxomycetes,  which 
are  destitute  of  every  kind  of  external  protection,  are  enabled 
to  carry  on  their  existence,  the  knowledge  of  the  remarkably 
delicate  reaction  of  their  plasmodia  under  external  influences 
prepares  us  to  understand.  Plasmodia,  which  are  not  yet 
ripe  for  reproduction,  are  kept  in  the  moist  substratum  by 
their  peculiar  affection  for  moisture  and  utter  dislike  of  the 
light.  But  within  the  darkness  and  moisture  of  the  sub- 
stratum the  plasmodia  do  not  necessarily  remain  in  one  place, 
for  the  differences  in  the  chemical  composition  of  the  sub- 
stratum cause  continual  migrations.  Nothing  more  remark- 
able can  be  said  of  the  plasmodia  than  that  they  have  a 
wonderful  faculty  of  avoiding  harmful  substances,  and, 
traversing  the  substratum  in  all  directions,  of  taking  up  the 
materials  they  require  for  food  and  growth.  When,  how- 
ever, their  internal  changes  have  advanced  so  far  that  the 
plasmodia  are  approaching  the  fructifying  condition,  they 
are  brought  by  their  dislike  for  moisture,  which  now  sets  in, 
from  the  moist  ground  of  forest  or  wood  which  they  affect 
to  the  surface,  where  they  creep  up  various  upright  objects, 
frequently  not  doing  more  than  forming  rigid  reproductive 
capsules  at  some  height  from  the  ground.  If,  however,  the 
substratum  becomes  gradually  colder,  as  is  the  case  in 
autumn,  a  change  which  sets  in  at  the  surface  moving  down- 
wards, then  the  plasmodia  migrate  into  deeper  regions  still 
having  a  higher  temperature  ;  but  when  the  cooling  proceeds 
very  gradually,  which  especially  happens  in  large  tan-heaps, 
the  plasmodia  may  in  their  migration  attain  considerable 
depths,  where  they  then  change  into  sclerotia,  which  are 
hard  tuberous  substances,  resembling  the  tubers  and  bulbs 
of  flowering  plants.  If,  however,  the  temperature  begins  to 
ascend,  the  sclerotia  again  germinate,  and  movement  takes 


336  Life  and  Immortality. 

place  from  the  deeper  and  cooler  parts  to  the  upper  already 
named. 

Thus  we  see,  in  the  locomotion  of  the  Myxomycetes, 
extremely  interesting  cases  of  movements  due  to  stimulation. 
Light,  heat,  moisture  and  gravitation  are,  in  general,  stimulus- 
movements,  and  ultimately  all  growth  depends  on  stimulus- 
movement,  the  most  primitive  kind  of  protoplasmic  move- 
ment. No  causes  other  than  those  which  actuate  higher 
organisms  can  be  discerned  to  account  for  this  lowest  type  of 
organic  movement.  What  form  of  inorganic  energy  can  be 
cited  of  sufficient  potency  to  cause  the  organism  to  change, 
and  without  regard  to  gravitation  or  any  known  form  of 
attraction  or  repulsion,  its  position  in  obedience  to  stimuli 
acting  for  its  self-preservation  ?  There  is  none.  In  the 
Fuligo,  or  Tan  Flower,  a  most  remarkable  example  of 
designed  movement  has  been  observed.  This  form  will, 
according  to  H.  J.  Carter,  in  its  early  amcebula  stage,  when 
isolated  from  the  sawdust  and  chips  of  wood  among  which 
it  has  been  living,  adapt  itself  to  the  water  of  a  watch-glass, 
or  any  other  shallow  vessel,  in  which  it  may  happen  to  be 
placed.  But,  if  the  watch-glass  be  placed  upon  the  sawdust, 
then  it  will  make  its  way  over  the  side  of  the  glass  to  get  to 
the  sawdust.  Here  is  probably  shown  a  sense-perception  of 
the  presence  and  position  of  the  tan-bark,  as  well  as  a  feel- 
ing of  desire  to  go  to  it.  May  not  this  desire  have  been  due 
to  a  sense  of  discomfort  induced  by  the  surrounding  water, 
or  to  the  calling  up  in  memory  of  some  superior  comfort 
associated  with  the  tan-bark  ? 

Man  in  his  self-complacency  thinks  that  he  knows  the 
plants  about  him.  It  is  true  that  he  has  noted  their  form, 
their  anatomy,  their  color  and  their  resemblances  and  differ- 
ences, but  how  few  have  studied  them  in  meadow  and  woods 
by  the  light  of  a  lantern  at  night  or  by  the  silver  rays  of  the 
moon.  One  feels  on  such  an  occasion  as  though  he  had 
stepped  from  his  threshold  upon  a  foreign  soil.  Folded 
leaves  and  strange  sleeping  forms  will  be  found  to  confront 


Consciousness  in  Plants.  337 

you  in  every  direction.  Of  the  nature  of  the  nocturnal  move- 
ments of  plants,  as  well  as  their  varied  and  curious  attitudes, 
both  in  leaves  and  flowers,  much  speculation  has  been  rife 
among  botanists.  In  many  flowers  the  night  attitudes  have 
been  conclusively  shown  to  have  relation  solely  to  their  ferti- 
lization by  insects  ;  but  the  drooping  night  attitudes  of  the 
leaves  were  supposed  to  indicate  an  aversion  to  moist- 
ure, many  plants  seemingly  verifying  the  conjecture  by 
the  assumption  of  the  same  position  during  rain  as  in  the 
dew.  But  when  the  same  pranks  were  played  on  a  cloudy 
day  or  a  dewless  night,  the  explanation  had  to  be  abandoned. 
With  the  clovers,  the  nocturnal  positions  of  the  heads  seem 
to  be  assumed  only  in  the  darkness,  and  this  invariably, 
dew  or  no  dew,  while  the  leaves  appear  to  revel  in  the  rain, 
remaining  freely  open,  their  chief  concern  being  the  protec- 
tion of  the  young  blossom-clusters. 

Were  our  eyes  sharp  enough  we  might  discern  a  certain 
strangeness  in  the  nocturnal  expression  of  every  plant  and 
tree.  But  in  no  tree  is  this  expression  so  remarkably  empha- 
sized as  in  the  locust,  a  member  of  the  same  leguminous 
order  of  plants  with  the  clover.  These  trees  are  especially 
noted  for  the  pronounced  irritability  of  their  leaves,  and  odd 
nocturnal  capers,  whose  seeming  vital  consciousness  has 
induced  some  authorities  to  place  them  at  the  extremity  of 
their  system,  in  contact  with  the  limits  of  the  animal  king- 
dom. How  strange  the  pigweeds  look  at  night !  Their 
upper  leaves,  which  during  the  day  had  extended  wide  on 
their  long  stems,  now  incline  upward  against  the  stalk, 
enclosing  the  tops  of  the  younger  branches,  but  still  older 
plants  are  seen  with  leaves  extended  much  as  at  mid-day,  but 
nearly  all  turned  edgewise  by  a  twist  in  the  stem.  Circling 
in  a  close  curve,  the  creeping-mallow  blossom  now  ignores 
her  proud  array  of  cheeses,  and  the  oxalis  flower  has  for- 
gotten her  shooting  pods  to  keep  the  vigil,  closed  and  nod- 
ding upon  her  stem,  while  her  leaves  masquerade  in  one  of 
the  oddest  disguises,  their  three  heart-shaped  leaflets  being 


338  Life  and  Immortality. 

seen  reflexed  and  adjusting  themselves  back  to  back  around 
the  stem  with  many  contortions.  Whatever  the  function  of 
this  strange  nocturnal  movement  may  be,  and  it  is  still  a 
matter  of  dispute  with  botanists,  one  thing  we  are  certain 
about,  that  is,  its  essential  condition  to  the  life  of  the  plant, 
careful  experiment  having  demonstrated,  according  to  one 
authority,  that  "  if  the  leaves  are  prevented  from  so  regulat- 
ing their  surface,  they  lose  their  color  and  die  in  a  few  days" 
— a  fact  which  Darwin  has  just  as  conclusively  shown  to  be 
the  case  with  other  plants. 

Flowers  that  bloom  by  night  could  hardly  be  suspected  of 
that  vanity  which  Rhodora  has  been  made  to  confess  by 
Emerson  in  his  beautiful  lines  to  this  flower.  Our  evening 
primrose  does  not  bloom  in  the  dark  hours  for  mere  senti- 
ment or  moonshine,  but  from  a  nature  which  lies,  figuratively 
speaking,  much  nearer  her  heart.  "  Often  when  the  nights 
are  very  dark,"  says  an  old  writer,  "  her  petals  emit  a  mild 
phosphorescent  light,  and  look  as  if  illuminated  for  a  holi- 
day. And  he  who  does  not  fear  to  be  out  in  her  mild  and 
lovely  haunt  may  see  a  variety  of  nocturnal  ephemerae  hover- 
ing around  the  lighted  petals,  or  sipping  at  the  flowery 
fountains,  while  others  rest  among  the  branches  or  hurry 
up  the  stems  as  if  fearing  to  be  too  late."  From  the  first 
moment  of  her  wooing  welcome  it  would  seem  that  our 
evening  primrose  listens  for  murmuring  wings,  and  awaits 
that  supreme  fulfilment  with  joyous  expectancy,  for  it  will 
invariably  be  found  that  these  blossoms,  which  open  in  the 
twilight,  have  adapted  themselves  to  crepuscular  moths  and 
other  nocturnal  insects,  a  fact  which  finds  a  striking  illus- 
tration in  the  instances  of  very  long  tubular-shaped  night- 
blooming  flowers,  like  the  honeysuckle  and  divers  orchids, 
whose  nectar  is  beyond  the  ability  of  any  insect  but  a  night- 
flying  hawk-moth  to  attain.  True,  it  is,  that  in  other  less 
deep  nocturnal  flowers  the  sweets  could  be  reached  by 
butterflies  or  bees  if  the  blossoms  were  left  open.  But 
the  night-murmurers  receive  the  first  invitation,  which,  if 


Consciousness  in  Plants.  339 

accepted,  leaves  but  a  wilted,  half-hearted  blossom  to  wel- 
come the  sipper  of  the  sunshine.  This  beautiful  expectancy, 
somehow  or  other,  determines  the  limit  of  its  bloom.  How- 
ever, in  the  event  of  rain  or  other  causes  preventive  of  insect 
visits,  the  evening  primrose  will  remain  open  for  the  attention 
of  the  butterflies  during  the  ensuing  day,  when  otherwise  it 
would  have  perceptibly  drooped,  and  extended  to  them  but 
a  listless  welcome.  Most  strikingly  may  this  fact  be  seen 
illustrated  in  a  spray  of  mountain-laurel.  For  nearly  a  week 
have  I  observed  in  my  house  these  blossoms  lingering  in 
patient  expectancy,  when  the  flowers  on  the  parent  shrub 
in  the  woods  had  fallen  several  days  before,  their  mission  in 
life  having  been  fulfilled.  In  the  house  specimens  the  radi- 
ating stamens,  which  are  naturally  dependent  upon  insects 
for  their  release,  and  the  consequent  discharge  of  the  pollen, 
remained  in  their  pockets  on  the  side  of  the  blossom-cup,  a 
support,  as  it  seemed,  for  the  bracing  up  of  the  corolla  upon 
its  receptacle.  But  when  the  operation  of  releasing  the 
stamens  was  artificially  consummated,  the  flower-cup  soon 
dropped  off  or  withered  upon  the  peduncle. 

Not  mainly  has  the  writer,  in  attributing  a  phosphorescent 
quality  to  the  evening  primrose,  followed  the  license  of 
fancy,  for,  if  scientists  are  to  be  believed,  the  regular  lumin- 
ous glow  of  this  and  other  nocturnal  flowers  has  long 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  curious,  and  positive  qualities 
of  inherent  light  have  been  accorded  in  many  instances.  It 
is  true,  as  one  authority  asserts,  that  "  the  evening  primrose 
is  perfectly  visible  in  the  darkest  night,"  from  which  fact 
phosphorescent  properties  have  been  ascribed  to  it.  Many 
well-authenticated  cases  are  on  record  of  luminous,  electrical, 
lightning-like  phosphorescence  playing  about  flowers,  the 
daughter  of  Linnaeus  having  been  the  first  one  to  note  such 
an  interesting  phenomenon.  Similar  flashes  or  corona  have 
been  observed  in  nasturtiums,  double  marigold,  geraniums, 
red  poppy,  tuberose,  sunflower  and  evening  primrose.  Ac- 
cording to  various  authorities,  and  it  would  be  a  rash  and 


340  Life  and  Immortality. 

presumptuous  commentator  who  would  dare  to  challenge 
such  an  array  of  competence,  many  beautiful  surprises 
await  the  traveller  among  the  dewy  shadows.  Whoever  has 
made  such  a  journey  will  not  only  return  with  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  has  doubled  his  possessions,  but  that  he  has 
also  explored  a  new  world — a  realm  which  he  can  look  in 
the  face  on  the  morrow  with  an  exchange  of  recognition 
that  was  truly  impossible  yesterday. 

Whether  or  not  all  the  facts  that  have  been  adduced  show 
that  plants  are  conscious  organisms  in  the  particulars  for 
which  it  is  claimed,  jt  matters  not,  for  enough  have  been  set 
forth  to  demonstrate  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  the  posi- 
tion that  they  are  endowed  with  a  consciousness,  no  matter 
how  infinitesimally  small  a  part  it  plays  in  nature.  Every- 
day observation  of  the  botanist  teaches  the  fact.  Sensation, 
which  is  consciousness,  has  preceded  in  time  and  in  history 
the  evolution  of  the  greater  part  of  plants  and  animals,  uni- 
cellular and  multicellular,  and,  therefore,  if  kinetogenesis,  or 
the  doctrine  of  the  effects  of  molar  motion,  be  true,  "  con- 
sciousness," as  Cope  alleges,  "  has  been  essential  to  a  rising 
scale  of  organic  evolution."  Animals  which  do  not  perform 
simple  acts  of  self-preservation  must  necessarily,  sooner  or 
later,  perish.  Impossible  it  is  to  understand  how  the  lowest 
forms  of  life,  wholly  dependent  as  they  are  on  physical  con- 
ditions of  many  kinds,  should  to-day  exist  if  they  were  not 
possessed  of  some  degree  of  consciousness  under  stimuli  at 
least.  We  have  but  to  picture  to  ourselves  the  condition  of 
a  vertebrate,  without  general  or  special  sensation,  would  we 
obtain  a  clear  perception  of  the  essentiality  of  consciousness 
to  its  existence.  If  now  use,  as  has  been  maintained,  has 
modified  structure,  and  so,  in  cooperation  with  the  environ- 
ment, has  directed  evolution,  we  can  understand  the  origin 
and  development  of  useful  organs,  and  also  how,  by  para- 
sitism, or  some  other  mode  of  gaining  a  livelihood  without 
exertion,  the  adoption  of  new  and  skilful  movements  would 
be  unnecessary,  and  consciousness  itself  seldom  aroused, 


Consciousness  in  Plants.  341 

for  continual  repose  would  be  followed  by  sub-consciousness, 
and  later  by  unconsciousness.  Such  appears  to  be  largely 
the  history  of  degeneracy  everywhere,  and  such  is,  perhaps, 
in  a  great  measure  the  history  of  the  entire  vegetable  king- 
dom, for  plants,  from  their  ability  to  manufacture  protoplasm 
from  inorganic  substances,  do  not  bodily  move  about  in 
quest  of  food  as  animals  generally  do,  and  therefore  require 
no  conscious  conditions,  it  would  seem,  to  guide  their  move- 
ments. They  become  fixed,  and  their  entire  organization, 
except  in  specialized  instances,  becomes  monopolized  by  the 
functions  of  nutrition  and  reproduction.  Their  movements 
are  mostly  rhythmic  or  rotary,  but  that  they  exhibit  the 
quality  of  impromptu  design  more  frequently  than  scientists 
are  willing  to  allow  must  be  admitted,  or  facts  and  the  con- 
clusions which  naturally  flow  therefrom  constitute  no  cri- 
teria of  judging.  Too  much  stress,  I  fear,  is  placed  in  these 
days  upon  the  action  of  certain  supposed  forces  that  are  resi- 
dent in  the  plant's  or  animal's  environment  in  accounting  for 
its  behavior,  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  any  energy  that  may 
be  acting  from  within  the  organism  itself.  "  That  conscious- 
ness as  well  as  life  preceded  organism,  and  has  been  the 
primum  mobile  in  the  creation  of  organic  structure,"  as  Cope 
assumes,  there  is  no  doubt ;  but  that  it  early  abandoned  the 
vegetable  world,  and  also  that  all  the  energies  of  vegetable 
protoplasm  soon  became  automatic,  causing  plants  in  general 
to  become  sessile,  and  therefore  parasitic  and  in  one  sense 
degenerate,  I  cannot  wholly  accept.  That  insects  have,  in 
the  matter  of  evolution  of  plant-types,  exerted  considerable 
influence  on  the  conditions  of  almost  all  of  their  organs,  the 
forms  of  the  organs  of  fructification  and  especially  of  the 
flowers,  through  certain  stimuli  and  strains  to  which  they 
have  become  subjected  by  reason  of  these  insects  and  their 
occupancy  of  parts  as  dwelling-places,  there  can  be  no  doubt ; 
and  it  is  probable  also,  as  has  been  maintained,  that  we  owe 
to  insects,  directly  or  indirectly,  not  only  the  forms,  but  also 
the  colors  of  the  flowers,  and  their  odors  and  peculiar 


342  Life  and  Immortality. 

markings  as  well.  And  thus  while  degeneracy,  as  observed 
in  the  abortion  of  ovules,  carpels  and  perianth,  may  be  seen 
everywhere,  which  the  influences  that  have  acted  upon  them 
have  induced,  yet  it  is  the  height  of  presumption  to  assert 
that  consciousness  has  entirely  abandoned  the  members  of 
the  vegetable  kingdom,  and  that  they  are  reduced  to  the 
condition  of  mere  automata.  It  is  true,  as  has  been  claimed, 
that  the  permanent  and  the  successful  forms  of  organization 
have  ever  been  those  in  which  motion  and  sensibility  have 
been  preserved,  as  well  as  the  most  highly  developed ;  and 
just  as  true  it  is  that  plants,  even  though  fixed  to  the  soil 
and  unable  to  effect  a  change  of  environment  in  consequence, 
are  not  so  incapable  of  conscious  actions  as  not  to  be  able  to 
meet  any  changes,  and  these  changes  do  very  often  occur, 
that  climate,  new  conditions  of  soil,  helps  or  hindrances  to 
growth  and  wear,  may  bring  about.  That  they  must  adapt 
themselves  to  such  changes,  or  perish  in  their  struggle  to 
exist,  none  can  question.  It  is  not  enough  to  say  that 
natural  selection  affords  an  explanation  of  every  phenomenon 
that  they  may  exhibit.  There  is  an  energy  within  the  plant, 
think  and  write  as  we  will,  and  it  is  this  that  comes  to  its 
aid  and  directs  the  movement  that  will  be  productive  of  the 
most  good. 

Concluding,  then,  let  me  aver  that  no  plant  can  exist  or 
fulfil  its  allotted  part  in  the  drama  of  life  without  the  pos- 
session of  some  form  or  degree  of  consciousness.  If  it  be 
true  that  life  and  consciousness  preceded  organization,  and 
the  statement  can  hardly  be  disputed,  and  have  been  the 
primwn  mobile  in  the  creation  of  organic  structure,  what 
reason,  seeing  that  life  necessarily  persists  in  vegetable  organ- 
ism, can  be  given  for  their  dissociation  in  existing  forms 
of  plants,  as  seems  to  be  the  tendency  of  modern  scientific 
thought  ?  That  plants  once  possessed  consciousness,  there 
can  be  no  difference  of  opinion.  Well,  then,  what  has 
become  of  this  consciousness  ?  It  could  not  have  been 
destroyed,  for  energy  or  force,  and  consciousness  certainly 


Consciousness  in  Plants.  343 

must  be  placed  under  this  category,  can  never  be  destroyed. 
I  repeat  the  question.  What  has  become  of  it  ?  Either  it 
exists  in  the  plant  in  a  dormant  condition,  awaiting  opportuni- 
ties to  call  it  into  existence,  or  it  has  returned  to  the  great 
Source  of  all  consciousness,  whence  each  individual  organ- 
ism, whether  of  plant  or  animal,  obtained  its  quantum.  It 
still  exists,  but  how  or  under  what  conditions,  I  cannot 
affirm,  and  is  to  plants  what  mind  is  to  man  and  animals,  con- 
trolling their  actions  when  such  are  for  their  well-being  and 
good.  If  mind  persists  in  a  future  state,  then  consciousness, 
which  may  be  considered  as  mind  in  plants,  must  also  per- 
sist, for  it  is  not  at  all  likely  that  the  Source  of  all  conscious- 
ness, which  we  worship  as  God,  the  Creator  of  all  things, 
could  be  unmindful  of  the  least  of  His  children. 


1WIND  IN  AfllJflflbS. 


THAT  the  lower  animals  are  in  possession  of  all  the  char- 
acters of  the  mind  or  soul  that  are  either  the  inherited 
or  acquired  properties  of  man,  some  evidence  will  now  be 
adduced.  Foremost  among  these  qualities  is  Reason.  Much 
vagueness  of  idea  exists  as  to  what  constitutes  reason,  the  gen- 
eral tendency  being  to  confound  it  with  instinct,  and  to  won- 
der where  the  one  ends  and  the  other  begins.  Hundreds  of 
anecdotes,  too  familiar  for  mention,  might  be  instanced, 
which  have  been  described  as  wonderful  examples  of  instinct, 
but  which,  upon  careful  examination,  have  been  shown  to  be 
undoubted  proofs  of  reason.  That  disposition  of  mind  by 
which,  independent  of  all  instruction  or  experience,  animals  are 
unerringly  directed  to  do  spontaneously  whatever  is  neces- 
sary for  the  preservation  of  the  individual  or  the  continua- 
tion of  the  species,  is  instinct.  It  is  instinct  that  teaches  the 
newly-born  child  to  breathe,  or  to  seek  its  mother's  breast 
and  obtain  its  nourishment  by  suction.  Instinct  teaches  the 
bird  how  to  make  its  nest  after  the  manner  of  its  kind,  but 
it  is  reason  that  leads  it  to  construct  a  fabric  radically  differ- 
ent from  the  typical  form.  Taking  the  case  of  insects,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  it  is  instinct  that  teaches  the  caterpillar 
to  make  its  cocoon,  to  remain  there  until  it  has  developed 
into  an  imago,  and  then  to  force  its  entrance  into  the  world. 
Ducks,  though  hatched  under  a  hen,  instinctively  make  their 
way  to  the  water,  while  chickens,  though  hatched  under  a 
duck,  instinctively  keep  away  from  it.  Man,  as  well  as  the 
lower  animals,  has  his  instincts,  but  very  few  of  them  are 
apparent,  for  he  is  able  to  bring  the  most  of  them  under 


Mind  in  Animals.  345 

subjection  by  the  power  of  his  reason.  Some,  however, 
remain  and  assert  themselves  throughout  the  entire  period 
of  his  life. 

There  is  the  widest  possible  difference  between  reason  and 
instinct,  the  former  being  an  exercise  of  the  will,  while  the 
latter  is  independent  thereof.  Instinct  comes  in  at  birth,  but 
reason  is  an  after-growth  of  the  mind.  No  exercise  of 
thought  does  instinct  require,  but  when  the  mind  reasons 
some  conclusion  is  deduced  from  the  premises  which  it  has 
assumed.  All  animals,  in  common  with  ourselves,  possess 
the  power  of  reasoning,  although  in  a  less  degree.  It  is  by 
the  superiority  of  our  reason  over  theirs  that  we  maintain 
our  supremacy.  False  premises  often  lead  to  wrong  de- 
ductions, but  their  process  is  still  one  of  pure  reason.  With 
them,  as  well  as  with  ourselves,  reason,  especially  in  the  case 
of  domestic  animals,  often  conquers  instinct,  and  so  by  con- 
tact with  a  higher  order  of  reason,  that  of  man's,  their  own 
is  more  fully  developed.  They,  in  a  sense,  become  civil- 
ized. Let  a  hungry  dog  and  a  cat  be  left  in  a  room  where 
food  is  unguarded,  and  their  instincts  will  urge  them  to  jump 
upon  the  table  and  help  themselves.  But  if  they  have  been 
trained,  their  reason  restrains  their  instinct,  and,  no  matter 
how  hungry  they  may  be,  they  will  not  touch  the  food  until 
it  is  given  to  them.  Some  few  years  ago  a  matronly  lady  and 
her  dog,  a  beautiful  pug,  were  accustomed  to  take  their  dinner 
at  a  saloon  which  the  writer  daily  visited.  The  dog  was  given 
a  chair  on  the  side  opposite  his  mistress.  He  was  a  well- 
mannered  animal,  and  never  during  his  many  visits  to  the 
place  did  he  ever  violate  the  laws  of  good  manners.  Patiently 
he  would  wait  until  the  food  was  put  upon  his  plate,  and  not 
even  then  would  he  take  it,  for  he  had  been  taught  that  it 
was  something  that  should  not  be  hastily  seized  and  eaten. 
The  idea  that  food  cost  money  was  distinctly  impressed  upon 
his  mind,  and  this  the  owner  did  by  thrice  repeating,  "  This 
cost  money."  It  was  evident  that  the  dog  understood  what 
was  said  from  the  thoughtful  look  he  gave  her.  In  a  little 


346  Life  and  Immortality. 

while  he  was  given  the  command  to  eat,  but,  like  the  cul- 
tured creature  he  was,  everything  was  done  orderly  and 
decently.  Almost  any  animal  can  be  thus  trained  to  subject 
its  natural  instincts  to  its  reason. 

Fishes  are  not  known  to  possess  much  reason.  There  is 
not  an  angler,  nevertheless,  that  will  not  tell  you  that  he  has 
had  the  powers  of  his  mind  taxed  to  the  utmost  in  his 
efforts  to  induce  an  old  and  wary  trout  to  take  the  bait,  and 
even  when  he  has  succeeded  in  hooking  him,  it  has  greatly 
tried  his  genius  for  planning  to  prevent  the  fish  from  break- 
ing his  line.  Natural  instinct  teaches  a  fish  to  fly  from  man, 
and  even  one's  shadow  on  the  water  will  frighten  away  the 
fish  and  destroy  an  angler's  hopes  of  success.  Yet  we  have 
seen  a  pond  full  of  gold-fish  which  were  quite  tame,  and 
which,  when  they  saw  a  human  being  at  the  side  of  the  pond, 
would  come  forward  instead  of  showing  alarm.  They  were 
so  perfectly  confiding  that  they  would  take  a  piece  of  bread 
or  biscuit  out  of  his  hand.  Here,  then,  is  an  example  of  the 
instinct,  which  urges  them  to  flee  from  man,  being  overcome 
by  the  reason,  which  tells  them  to  approach  him. 

Animals  of  burden  may  often  be  seen  attending  to  pre- 
scribed work  without  any  supervision.  Dray-horses,  as  is 
well  known,  sometimes  take  pleasure  in  their  work.  I  knew 
of  a  horse  of  the  kind  that  was  as  much  interested,  appar- 
ently, in  his  work  as  his  owner.  He  never  had  to  be  told 
when  to  move,  for  all  the  while  the  dray  was  loading  he  was 
observant  of  everything,  and,  knowing  the  capacity  thereof, 
was  ready  when  the  look  from  the  master  told  him  to  pro- 
ceed. Horses  have  sometimes  shown  a  knowledge  of  the 
amount  of  work  they  are  supposed  to  perform  in  a  day.  A 
case  has  been  cited  of  a  horse  by  Mr.  Wood  that  was 
capable  of  doing  his  work  without  a  driver.  He  belonged 
to  the  owner  of  an  American  mine.  As  soon  as  his  cart 
was  filled  with  ore,  at  a  given  signal  he  went  off  to  the 
spot  where  the  ore  was  to  be  dumped,  waited  until  the  cart 
was  unloaded,  and  then  returned  for  another  load.  So  many 


Mind  in  Animals. 


347 


loads  had  to  be  carried  daily,  and,  strange  to  relate,  the  ani- 
mal knew  when  his  task  was  finished  as  well  as  any  of  the 
men.  When  the  last  load  for  the  day  was  deposited,  he 
could  be  seen  trotting  off  in  the  direction  of  home,  where  he 
knew  he  would  receive  a  kind  reception  from  his  mistress. 


WONDERFUL  EQUINE  INTELLIGENCE. 
A  Horse  That  Knew  When  His  Day's  Work  Was  Done. 


Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  animals  have  and  do 
exercise  powers  of  reason.  That  they  have  the  means  of 
transmitting  ideas  to  their  fellows  is  not  to  be  questioned. 
Language  is  the  means  of  transmission.  Not  only  are  they 
able  to  interchange  thoughts  with  each  other,  but  with  man 


348  Life  and  Immortality. 

also  when  they  are  brought  into  contact  with  him.  They 
must  possess  a  language  of  some  kind,  whereby  they  can  un- 
derstand each  other,  can  comprehend  human  language,  and 
make  themselves  intelligible  to  man.  All  these  conditions 
are  fulfilled  in  the  lower  animals,  but  there  is  one  distinction 
between  the  capability  of  understanding  their  own  language 
and  that  of  man,  and  that  is,  that  they  are  born  with  the  one 
and  have  to  learn  the  other.  Newly-hatched  chickens, 
although  they  have  only  entered  the  world  an  hour  or  so 
ago,  understand  perfectly  well  their  mother.  They  know 
what  to  do  when  she  calls  them  to  find  what  food  she  has  un  - 
earthed,  and  they  know  what  to  do  when  she  warns  them 
of  danger.  Who  has  not  heard  them  talk  to  her  ?  But  how 
different  are  their  tones  under  various  circumstances.  The 
little  piping  notes  of  content  when  all  is  going  on  well  can 
never  be  confounded  with  the  cry  of  alarm  when  they  have 
lost  their  way  or  are  otherwise  frightened. 

Wasps,  as  everybody  knows  who  has  studied  these  insects, 
carry  out  one  of  the  first  principles  of  military  art.  They 
always  have  the  gate  of  their  fortress  guarded  by  a  sentinel. 
Should  danger  be  imminent,  the  alarm  is  given  by  the  senti- 
nel, and  out  rush  the  inhabitants  to  wreak  vengeance  upon 
the  offender.  Out  of  a  full-sized  nest,  consisting  of  many  hun- 
dred wasps,  it  is  evident  that  the  individual  who  is  to  act  as 
sentinel  must  be  selected,  and  its  task  appointed.  How  the 
selection  is  made,  no  one  knows.  But  that  such  is  done,  there 
can  be  no  question,  for  the  rest  of  the  community  acknowl- 
edge their  sentinel,  trust  to  it  for  guarding  the  approaches  of 
the  nest,  while  they  busy  themselves  with  the  usual  task  of 
collecting  food  for  the  young  and  new  material  for  the  nest. 

Nearly  related  to  wasps  are  the  ants.  Some  of  their  per- 
formances are  truly  astonishing.  They  have  armies  com- 
manded by  officers,  who  issue  orders,  insist  on  obedience, 
and  will  not  permit,  while  on  the  march,  any  of  the  privates 
to  stray  from  the  ranks.  There  are  other  ants  which  till  the 
ground,  weed  it,  plant  the  particular  grain  on  which  they 


Mind  in  Animals.  349 

feed,  cut  it  when  ripe,  and  store  it  in  their  subterranean 
granaries.  Arrant  slaveholders  are  others,  who  make  sys- 
tematic raids  upon  neighboring  species,  carry  off  their  yet 
unhatched  cocoons,  and  rear  them  in  their  own  nests  to  be 
their  servants.  Somewhat  recent  discoveries  show  that  there 
are  ants  which  bury  their  dead.  Two  pairs  of  bearers  are 
chosen  to  carry  the  corpse,  one  pair  relieving  the  other  when 
tired,  while  the  main  body,  often  several  hundred  in  number, 
follow  behind.  So  much  could  be  said  about  ants,  so  closely 
do  their  performances  resemble  the  customs  of  human  civili- 
zation, that  the  subject  could  never  grow  uninteresting,  but 
we  must,  for  the  present,  forbear.  All  these  various  per- 
formances could  not  be  possible  were  there  not  some  way  by 
which  communication,  or  interchange  of  ideas,  could  be 
carried  on  among  the  individual  members  of  the  same  com- 
munity. Sometimes  one  species  of  ant  is  capable  of  carrying 
on  a  conversation,  so  to  speak,  with  another.  Bees,  wasps 
and  ants  are  the  best  linguists  of  the  insect  race,  their  lan- 
guage being  chiefly  conducted  by  means  of  their  antennae. 

Who  has  not  often  observed  two  dogs,  members  of  the 
same  household,  holding  sweet  converse  with  each  other? 
Pug  and  Gyp  were  two  animals  that  belonged  to  the  fam- 
ily where  I  spent  a  summer  vacation.  They  thought  much 
of  each  other  when  romping  together  in  the  yard,  or  in 
foraging  the  neighboring  woods  and  fields  for  rabbits  and 
ground-hogs.  Never  would  they  start  out  on  an  expedition 
for  game  without  having  previously  laid  their  plans.  It  was 
interesting  and  amusing  to  watch  them.  They  would  bring 
their  heads  into  close  contiguity,  remaining  in  this  position 
for  two  or  three  minutes,  when,  by  mutual  consent,  they 
would  separate,  look  each  other  in  the  eyes,  and  then  start 
off  in  different  directions  for  the  scene  of  their  projected 
enterprise.  Times  out  of  number  I  have  observed  such 
behavior  and  have  always  discovered  that  they  meant 
something  of  the  kind.  There  were  no  audible  utterances, 
no  visible  gestures,  yet  there  was  an  interchange  of  ideas. 


350  Life  and  Immortality. 

Through  the  medium  of  the  eye  were  the  thoughts  con- 
veyed. It  was  spirit  speaking  directly  to  spirit,  conveying 
by  a  single  glance  of  the  eye  thoughts  which  whole  vol- 
umes would  fail  to  express. 

Each  species  of  animal  has  its  own  dialect.  Yet  there  is 
another  language,  a  sort  of  animal  lingua  franca,  which  is 
common  to  all.  A  cry  of  warning,  no  matter  from  what 
bird  or  animal  it  emanates,  is  understood  by  them  all,  as  is 
well  known  to  many  a  sportsman  who  has  lost  his  only 
chance  of  a  shot  by  reason  of  an  impertinent  crow,  jay  or 
magpie  which  has  espied  him,  and  has  given  its  cry  of  alarm. 
There  is  not  a  bird  of  garden  or  orchard,  or  a  fowl  of  the 
barnyard  or  doorside,  that  does  not  understand  the  peculiar 
cry  of  the  rooster  when  a  hawk  is  seen  careering  overhead, 
or  perched  upon  the  summit  of  a  near-by  tree.  With  one 
accord  they  flee  to  their  coverts,  and  there  remain  until  the 
danger  is  past. 

No  more  quarrelsome  and  pugnacious  species  of  bird 
exists  than  the  English  sparrow.  He  appropriates  every 
available  locality  for  nesting  purposes,  and  our  native  species 
are  driven  to  the  necessity  of  fighting  for  their  rights,  or  of 
seeking  quarters  in  the  rural  districts  which  these  birds  do 
not  infect.  Thus  it  is  that  many  a  useful  robin,  bluebird 
or  martin  is  driven  from  our  midst.  Many  have  witnessed 
encounters  between  these  birds  and  the  robins.  The  author 
once  saw  a  contest  between  a  pair  of  sparrows  and  a  pair  of 
robins  for  the  possession  of  a  certain  tree  that  grew  in  his 
yard.  Now  the  robin,  single-handed,  is  more  than  a  match 
for  a  sparrow.  In  the  engagement  referred  to,  the  robins 
were  getting  the  better  of  the  sparrows,  which  the  latter 
were  not  slow  in  perceiving.  Instantly  the  sparrows  set  up 
the  wild,  ear-piercing  harangue  for  which  they  are  peculiarly 
noted,  when  more  than  a  score  of  friends  from  the  immediate 
vicinity  gathered  to  their  assistance.  But  the  war-cry  which 
they  sounded  not  only  summoned  help  to  their  standard, 
but  it  was  equally  understood  by  all  the  other  birds  of  the 


Mind  in  Animals.  351 

neighborhood,  who  flocked  to  the  defence  of  their  brethren 
against  the  alien.  The  battle  waged  warm  and  fiercely  for 
some  minutes,  when  the  sparrows  were  forced  to  seek  safety 
in  retreat. 

Not  only  can  crows  and  rooks  assemble,  hold  council  and 
agree  to  act  on  the  result  of  their  deliberations,  but  other 
birds  are  known  to  do  the  same  things.  Birds  are  able  to 
communicate  their  thoughts  to  each  other  by  means  of  a 
language,  but  it  is  not  likely  that  in  their  language,  or  the 
language  of  animals  in  general,  there  are  any  principles  of 
construction  such  as  are  possessed  by  all  human  languages. 
But  the  same  effect  may  be  produced  by  different  means,  and 
the  reader  will  see  that  in  the  above  instance  no  human 
language,  however  perfect  its  construction,  could  have 
served  its  purpose  better  than  did  the  inarticulate  language 
of  the  sparrows.  They  told  their  friends  that  their  territory 
was  usurped  by  an  intruder  too  strong  to  be  ejected  by  them, 
and  implored  their  assistance.  But  while  it  told  them  this, 
it  did  still  more,  for  it  conveyed  the  report  to  their  numerous 
foes,  who  winged  their  way  to  the  support  of  their  opponents. 
In  fact,  whenever  animals  of  any  kind  form  alliances  and  act 
simultaneously  for  one  common  purpose,  it  is  evident  that 
language  of  some  sort  must  be  employed. 

That  beasts  possess  a  language,  which  enables  them  to 
communicate  their  ideas  to  each  other,  has  been  clearly 
shown.  It  is  j  ust  as  apparent  that  they  can  act  upon  the  ideas 
so  conveyed.  We  have  now  to  see  whether  they  can  convey 
their  ideas  to  man,  and  so  bridge  over  the  gulf  between 
the  higher  and  the  lower  beings.  Were  there  no  means  of 
communicating  ideas  between  man  and  animals,  domestica- 
tion, it  is  true,  would  be  impossible.  Every  one  who  has  pos- 
sessed and  cared  for  some  favorite  animal  must  have  observed 
that  they  can  do  so.  Their  own  language  becomes  in  many 
instances  intelligible  to  man.  Just  as  a  child,  that  is  unable 
to  pronounce  words,  can  express  its  meaning  by  intimation, 
so  a  dog  can  do  the  same  by  its  different  modes  of  barking. 


352  Life  and  Immortality. 

There  is  the  bark  of  joy  or  welcome,  when  the  animal  sees 
its  master,  or  anticipates  a  walk  with  him ;  the  furious  bark 
of  anger,  if  the  dog  suspects  that  anyone  is  likely  to  injure 
himself  or  his  master,  and  the  bark  of  terror  when  the  dog  is 
suddenly  frightened  at  something  which  it  cannot  understand. 
Supposing,  now,  that  its  master  could  not  see  the  dog,  but 
could  only  hear  its  bark,  would  he  not  know  perfectly  well 
the  ideas  which  were  passing  through  the  animal's  mind  ? 
Most  certainly  he  would.  There  is  a  difference  between  the 
mew  of  distress  and  the  ordinary  conversation,  the  purr  of 
pleasure,  of  a  cat.  A  pet  canary  always  knows  how  to  call 
its  mistress,  and  when  it  sees  her  will  give  a  glad  chirrup  of 
recognition  quite  distinct  from  its  ordinary  call.  Bees  and 
wasps  have  quite  a  different  sound  in  their  wings  when  angry 
than  when  in  the  discharge  of  their  ordinary  work.  Any  one 
conversant  with  their  ways  understands  the  expression  of 
anger  and  makes  the  best  of  his  way  off. 

All  the  foregoing  are  but  examples  of  sound-language. 
The  gesture-language  of  animals,  however,  is  wonderfully 
extensive  and  expressive.  A  cat,  could  it  say  in  plain  words, 
"  Please  open  the  door  for  me,"  could  not  convey  its  ideas 
more  intelligently  than  it  does  by  going  to  the  door,  uttering 
a  plaintive  mew  to  show  that  it  wants  help,  and  then  patting 
the  door.  Dogs,  or,  in  fact,  all  animals  that  are  accustomed 
to  live  in  the  house,  will  act  after  a  similar  fashion.  There, 
then,  we  perceive  that  the  lower  animals  can  form  connected 
ideas,  and  can  convey  them  to  man,  so  that  the  same  ideas 
are  passing  at  the  same  moment  through  the  minds  of  man 
and  beast,  evidencing  that  they  possess  the  same  faculties, 
though  of  different  extent. 

Some  few  examples  must  suffice  to  show  the  power  of 
gesture-language  in  the  lower  animals.  I  once  owned  a  dog, 
a  variety  of  hound,  which  was  as  companionable  as  any  ani- 
mal could  possibly  be.  He  was  never  happy  unless  he  was 
on  the  go.  So  fond  was  he  of  travel  and  sight-seeing,  that  I 
gave  him  the  name  of  Rover.  My  occupation  calling  me 


Mind  in  Animals. 


353 


PAPIER-MACHE  PALACE  OF  THE  HORNET. 

Sentinel  Guarding  the  Entrance  to  the  Palace. 


from  home  every  day  of  the  week,  except  Saturday  and  Sun- 
day, but  giving  me  a  few  hours  of  each  day  before  the 
shadows  began  to  settle  round,  Rover  was  forced  to  spend 
his  time  during  my  absence  as  best  he  could.  He  was  no 
ordinary  dog.  Little  he  cared  for  the  dogs  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. His  was  a  superior  nature,  and  rather  than  associate 
with  his  neighbors  when  my  companionship  could  not  be 
had,  he  would  perform  his  journeys  alone,  sometimes  being 


354  Life  and  Immortality. 

gone  nearly  the  entire  day.  But  he  managed  to  keep  a 
pretty  fair  record  of  the  time,  for  he  was  always  on  hand  to 
greet  me  on  my  return  home.  His  joy  at  my  coming  knew 
nc  bounds.  He  would  rub  up  against  my  side,  caper  around 
me,  assuming  a  hundred  different  attitudes,  leap  up  into  my 
face,  which  he  would  caress  with  his  tongue.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  barks  of  delight,  nor  the  smile,  as  I  would  call  it, 
for  it  verily  seemed  a  smile  to  me,  which  lit  up  his  intelligent 
face.  Then  he  would  slowly  meander  his  way  to  the  gate. 
Reaching  it,  he  would  place  his  right  front  paw  upon  the 
latch,  spring  it,  and,  taking  hold  of  the  top  with  his  mouth, 
fling  it  wide  open.  He  was  then  a  very  happy  fellow.  That 
he  appreciated  the  favor  I  was  about  to  show  him,  there 
could  be  no  question,  as  he  plainly  showed  it  in  his  look, 
gesture  and  speech.  Sometimes  it  was  not  convenient  for 
me  to  take  a  walk  with  him,  or  I  was  not  in  the  physical  or 
mental  condition  to  do  so.  It  was  not  necessary  for  me  to 
tell  him  in  so  many  words  that  the  pleasure  would  have  to 
be  foregone  for  the  present,  for  his  keen,  discerning  mind 
could  read  it  in  my  looks.  I  never  liked  to  disappoint  him, 
for  the  grief  which  he  manifested  was  piteous  in  the  extreme. 
He  would  prostrate  himself  to  the  ground,  place  his  head 
between  his  front  paws,  and  look  the  very  picture  of  incon- 
solable distress.  The  low,  sorrowful  moan  which  he  would 
emit,  when  the  disappointment  was  the  keenest,  was  so 
heart-rending,  that  many  a  time  I  would  reverse  my  purpose 
and  say,  "  Come,  Rover,  master  will  not  deny  so  good  a 
creature  the  pleasure  of  his  company  for  an  hour  or  so  in 
the  woods."  Instantly  his  whole  expression  would  change, 
and  there  would  be  exhibited  a  joy  as  intense  as  the  grief 
which  had  depressed  him  to  the  earth.  Rover  was  no  hypo- 
crite. His  sorrow  was  not  assumed,  but  as  real  and  poignant 
a  sorrow  as  ever  possessed  a  human  breast.  I  have  known 
him  to  grieve  for  hours,  and  even  to  refuse  the  daintiest  food 
when  he  has  been  disappointed.  Were  he  dissembling,  see- 
ing that  it  availed  him  not,  he  would  not  be  likely  to  have 


Mind  in  A  nimals.  355 

kept  it  up  so  long,  and  to  his  sore  discomfort  and  detri- 
ment. Examples  of  animals  making  their  language  intelligi- 
ble to  man  could  be  multiplied  ad  infinitum,  but  we  must 
pass  on  to  say  something  about  their  capability  of  under- 
standing the  language  of  man. 

That  many  of  the  lower  animals  understand  something  of 
human  language  is  a  familiar  fact.  All  the  domesticated  ani- 
mals, notably  the  dog  and  the  horse,  can  comprehend  an  order 
that  is  given  to  them,  though,  perhaps,  they  may  not  be  able 
in  all  instances  to  understand  the  precise  words  which  are 
used.  There  are  many  occasions,  however,  when  it  is  evident 
that  the  knowledge  of  human  language  does  extend  to  the 
signification  of  particular  words.  Parrots,  as  is  well  known, 
are  well  acquainted  with  the  meanings  of  the  words  which 
they  speak.  Examples  have  been  known  to  the  writer  of 
parrots  that  were  able  to  speak  in  two  languages,  and,  when 
addressed,  always  replied  in  the  language  used  by  their 
interlocutors,  speaking  English  or  Spanish,  as  the  case  might 
be.  "  Go,  bring  up  the  cows,"  was  an  order  that  was  daily 
given  to  Lion,  a  large  black  dog,  with  a  shaggy  head,  that 
belonged  to  my  maternal  grandfather,  an  old-time  farmer 
who  lived  way  back  in  the  fifties.  So  well  did  he  understand 
the  significance  of  these  words,  and  the  labor,  worry  and 
responsibility  which  they  implied,  that  he  did  not  have  to  be 
told  a  second  time,  nor  have  to  have  their  import  conveyed 
to  him  by  sign  or  by  action  of  the  farm  lad  whose  business 
it  was  to  see  that  the  animals  were  brought  to  the  barn-yard 
at  milking  time.  Obedient  to  orders,  he  would  trot  to  the 
pasture-ground,  nearly  a  quarter-mile  distant,  open  the  bars 
between  the  lane  and  the  field  with  his  mouth,  and  then  start 
on  his  business  with  a  full  sense  of  its  requirements.  His 
coming  was  well  known  to  the  cattle.  While  the  most  of 
them  would  take  their  way  in  a  quiet,  orderly  manner  to  the 
lane,  yet  there  were  some  unruly  ones  among  them  who 
gave  Lion  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  but  he  always  succeeded 
in  overruling  their  contrary  tendencies.  When  there  was  a 


356  Life  and  Immortality. 

tumult  in  the  hennery,  accompanied  by  loud  noises,  the 
command,  "  Go,  see  what  the  trouble  is ! "  was  performed 
to  the  very  letter,  and  the  trouble,  if  any,  was  speedily 
announced  by  a  series  of  loud,  sharp,  quick  barks,  which  soon 
brought  some  one  or  more  members  of  the  family  to  the 
scene  of  disorder.  If  nothing  unusual  was  happening,  Lion 
would  return  to  the  house  in  a  slow,  leisurely  way,  and  by 
his  looks  convey,  as  clearly  as  man  could  do  it,  the  utter 
needlessness  of  the  command. 

Not  only  is  the  dog  capable  of  understanding  many 
things  that  are  said  to  him,  but  is  even  capable  of  forestall- 
ing one's  wishes.  Part  of  one  of  the  writer's  vacations  was 
spent  in  a  small  country  town  not  very  remote  from  Phila- 
delphia. There  was  in  the  family  with  whom  he  boarded  a 
dog  called  Prince.  He  was  a  very  great  favorite,  and  was 
once  noted  for  his  lively,  vivacious  disposition  and  jolly  man- 
ners. But  at  the  time  of  my  introduction  to  him,  he  seemed  to 
be  suffering  from  some  bodily  affliction,  which  had  not  only 
taken  away  his  appetite  for  food,  but  the  very  animus  of  his 
being.  Upon  inquiry  I  learned  that  the  master  of  the  house, 
to  whom  Prince  was  so  deeply  attached,  had  died  the  year 
before,  and  that  the  dog  had  taken  his  death  so  completely 
to  heart  that  he  had  lost  all  of  his  former  vivacity.  He 
refused  all  food,  often  going  for  days  without  taking  a  single 
mouthful.  Life  seemed  to  have  lost  for  him  all  its  charms. 
Sad  and  dejected  he  would  lie  upon  the  porch-floor  or  ground, 
seemingly  unconscious  of  everything  and  everybody.  That 
he  was  slowly  dying  seemed  evident  to  all.  But  a  change 
from  our  first  interview  appeared  to  come  over  the  animal. 
From  some  cause  or  other,  he  had  taken  quite  a  fancy  to 
me.  He  would  greet  me  with  considerable  friendliness  when 
I  would  come  down  in  the  morning,  and  always  seemed  glad 
to  be  in  my  presence.  My  first  business,  on  coming  down- 
stairs, was  to  go  for  the  newspaper,  which  was  always  to  be 
found  inside  the  yard,  some  thirty  steps  from  the  house.  I 
would  then  sit  down  upon  the  porch  and  read  it,  but  Prince 


Mind  in  Animals. 


X*f-  7/">>-'V'5^r5- 

l^^^fe^W' 

|£®Pfij«£M£$2g 


UNSOLICITED  AND  UNLOOKED-FOR  KINDNESS. 
How  Prince  Forestalled  My  Wishes  by  Bringing  Me  the  Morning  Newspaper. 


was  always  close-by,  a  willing  spectator.  One  morning, 
however,  instead  of  going  to  the  gate  for  the  paper  as  was 
my  custom,  I  stood  debating  in  my  mind  whether  to  go  or 
not,  when,  to  my  utmost  surprise,  the  dog,  after  watching 
me  for  a  while,  walked  very  soberly  down  to  the  gate,  picked 
up  the  paper  in  his  mouth,  and  brought  it  to  me,  not  laying 
it  down  at  my  feet,  but  placing  it  in  my  hands.  I  thanked 
him  for  his  kindness,  gave  him  a  few  gentle  pats  upon  the 
head,  and  he  walked  away  as  pleased  as  a  child  would  have 
been  who  had  received  a  few  pennies  for  a  similar  service. 
The  dog  had  evidently  read  in  my  looks  the  debate  that  was 
going  on  in  my  mind,  and  knowing  that  I  always  read  the 


35 8  Life  and  Immortality. 

paper  when  I  came  down  from  my  room,  anticipated  my 
wishes  by  bringing  it  to  me. 

There  is  in  the  two  interesting  stories  just  related  a  singu- 
lar aggregation  of  faculties  which  are  held  in  man  to  belong 
to  the  immortal,  and  not  to  the  mortal  part  of  his  being. 
Reason,  or  the  deduction  of  a  concluson  from  premises,  is 
strikingly  exhibited.  Then  there  is  the  power  of  forming 
ideas  and  communicating  them  to  man,  and  the  capability 
of  understanding  man's  language,  and  even  of  anticipating 
the  wishes  of  human  friends.  And  lastly,  there  is  the  intense 
love  for  the  master,  combined  with  the  power  of  self-sacrifice, 
which  enabled  Lion  and  Prince  to  act  as  they  did,  while 
instinct  was  urging  them  to  take  their  exercise  in  the  open 
air,  or  in  the  enjoyment  of  luxurious  ease. 

No  faculty  of  the  mind  gives  greater  trouble  to  materialists 
than  Memory.  It  is  that  which  survives  when  every  particle 
of  the  material  brain  has  been  repeatedly  changed.  It  is  that 
which  more  or  less  deeply  receives  impressions  and  retains 
them  through  a  long  series  of  years.  And  even  when  they 
are  apparently  forgotten,  hidden  as  it  were  behind  a  temporary 
veil,  a  passing  odor,  a  dimly-heard  sound  or  a  nodding 
flower  may  rend  the  veil  asunder  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
and  scenes  long  forgotten  are  reproduced  before  the  memory 
as  vividly  as  though  time  had  been  annihilated.  Nothing  is 
omitted.  There  comes  up  to  view  a  minute  and  instantaneous 
insight  into  every  detail,  and  for  a  moment  we  break  loose 
from  our  fleshy  tabernacle,  and  see  and  hear  with  our  spiritual 
and  not  with  our  material  eyes  and  ears.  Man  expects  that 
he  shall  retain  his  memory  and  carry  it  into  the  next  world. 
He  also  expects  to  recognize  in  the  spiritual  world  those 
whom  he  has  loved  in  this  temporal  sphere.  Memory,  there- 
fore, must  be  spiritual  and  eternal ;  and  wherever  it  can  be 
found,  there  exists  an  immortal  spirit.  No  stronger  evidence, 
apart  from  Revelation,  exists  of  a  future  life  of  man  than  mem- 
ory. And  if  we  apply  this  proof  to  ourselves,  then,  in  pure 
justice,  we  should  apply  it  wherever  memory  is  found. 


Mind  in  Animals.  359 

But  some  have  claimed  that  memory  is  a  mere  emanation 
from  the  brain.  That  an  inferior  brain  is  coupled  with  an 
inferior  intellect,  and  that  if  the  brain  be  slightly  or  seri- 
ously injured,  the  powers  of  thought  will  be  weakened  or 
utterly  held  in  abeyance,  are  arguments  that  have  been  made 
to  prove  that  thought  is  the  creation  of  the  brain.  The  facts 
in  themselves  are  true,  but  the  conclusion  is  false.  The 
brain  is  but  the  organ  or  instrument  of  the  thought-power, 
and  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  it  that  a  tool  does  to  a 
carpenter.  However  good  an  artisan  a  carpenter  may  be,  it 
is  but  common-sense  to  say  that  he  cannot  turn  out  good 
work  with  a  blunt  instrument,  or  any  work  at  all  with  a 
broken  one.  So  it  is  with  the  brain.  It  is  but  the  tool  of 
the  spirit,  and,  if  it  be  damaged  in  any  way,  the  keenest 
intellect  will  not  be  able  to  work  with  it.  Memory,  more- 
over, exists  in  creatures  which  are  devoid  of  brain.  No  real 
brain,  but  only  a  succession  of  nervous  ganglia  running  the 
entire  length  of  the  body,  is  found  in  insects,  and  indeed 
in  many  of  them  the  faculty  of  memory  is  very  strongly 
developed. 

Then  there  is  the  moner,  a  mere  speck  of  formless  pro- 
toplasm, that  has  not  the  slightest  trace  of  a  specialized 
nervous  system,  yet  it  has  the  power  of  throwing  out  arms 
and  of  retracting  them  into  the  general  body-mass,  of  opening 
out  mouths  where  a  particle  of  food  strikes  it,  of  digesting 
its  food,  and  of  circulating  its  fluid  without  the  necessity  of 
canals.  But  how  are  these  movements  effected  ?  Certainly 
a  nervous  influence  is  the  prime  mover  of  all  its  actions. 
Nerve-matter,  mayhap,  constitutes  its  entire  body-mass,  or  it 
may  be  all  brain  as  well  as  all  muscle.  Though  the  lowest 
and  simplest  of  all  animal  life,  yet  it  possesses  an  innate  con- 
sciousness and  intelligence.  Memory  is  not  wanting  as  a 
faculty  of  the  mind  of  this  all-brain  animal,  which  I  have 
thought  fit  to  characterize  it,  as  some  actions  of  it  already 
described  under  the  head  of  "  Slime  Animals"  seem  very 
clearly  to  indicate. 


360  Life  and  Immortality, 

Some  fifteen  years  ago  I  mentioned  in  an  article,  entitled 
"  Insect  Pets,"  a  pair  of  flies,  the  common  Musca  domestica 
of  our  houses,  which  had  been  closely  observed  by  Mr. 
Forestel,  the  gentleman  who  at  that  time  had  charge  of  the 
distributing  department  of  the  Philadelphia  Record.  This 
position  necessitates  nocturnal  employment.  While  taking 
his  midnight  lunch,  Mr.  Forestel's  attention  was  directed  to 
a  pair  of  these  insects  that  had  located  themselves  upon  his 
plate.  Had  it  been  in  the  summer  when  flies  were  plentiful, 
the  event  would  hardly  have  been  noticed ;  but  being  in  the 
winter,  a  season  notable  for  their  great  scarcity,  they  could 
not  but  impress  his  mind  with  something  out  of  the  ordinary. 
Night  after  night  these  self-invited  and  curious  guests  pre- 
sented themselves  at  the  same  place,  and  it  was  a  long  time 
before  he  observed  the  regularity  of  their  visits.  At  first  he 
was  disposed  to  view  the  alighting  of  two  flies  upon  his  plate 
as  a  mere  coincidence,  but  he  at  length  became  so  deeply 
interested  in  the  affair,  that  he  resolved  to  watch  their  actions 
very  closely.  It  was  not  long  before  he  became  convinced 
that  they  always  waited  for  the  commencement  of  the  meal, 
when  they  would  deliberately  fly  down  for  their  regular 
lunch.  So  closely  did  he  watch  them,  that  he  was  soon  able 
to  discriminate  between  the  two,  and  to  discover  beyond  a 
doubt  that  it  was  not  a  series  of  two  flies,  but  always  the 
same  pair.  As  time  progressed,  Mr.  Forestel  and  the  flies 
grew  to  be  famous  friends.  They  in  time  became  so  friendly, 
that  they  would  permit  themselves  to  be  handled.  Although 
at  first  they  would  only  appear  when  Mr.  Forestel  was  alone, 
yet  they  soon  became  accustomed  to  strangers.  On  the  nights 
when  their  friend  was  not  on  duty,  others  have  spread 
their  lunches  on  the  table  used  by  him,  but  the  flies  were 
not  slow  in  making  the  discovery,  and,  instead  of  alighting, 
would  quickly  hasten  away  without  their  accustomed  meal. 
Who  can  deny  the  possession  of  memory  to  these  two  flies  ? 
Had  the  discovery  of  the  food  been  an  accidental  occurrence 
the  first  time,  could  it  have  been  so  the  second  and  all  the 


Mind  in  Animals.  361 

succeeding  times  ?  Then,  again,  the  flies  always  came  at 
the  right  time,  showing  that  they  had  some  idea  of  the  pass- 
ing moments.  Even  admitting  that  this  latter  thought  is  out 
of  the  range  of  probability,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they 
were  not  observant  creatures,  else  how  would  they  know 
when  to  come,  or  whether  or  not  the  man  that  sat  at  the 
table  was  the  same  that  had  shown  them  so  much  kindness 
on  their  previous  visits.  That  they  did  know  these  things, 
there  cannot  be  the  slightest  doubt.  But  how  did  they 
know  them  ?  There  is  only  one  answer  to  the  query.  They 
knew  them  through  the  exercise  of  memory,  these  creatures 
impressing  on  their  minds  the  appearance  of  the  objects 
near  the  table,  the  form  and  color  of  the  table  itself,  the 
look,  manner  and  dress  of  the  man  who  sat  by  it,  and  acting 
on  the  result  of  these  impressions.  Human  beings  act  in 
just  the  same  way  in  traversing  for  the  first  time  a  locality 
through  which  they  will  have  to  return.  And  yet,  as  has 
already  been  stated,  these  insects  have  no  true  brains. 

Considerably  removed  from  insects  are  the  vermes,  or 
worms.  Man,  in  his  overweening  opinion  of  self,  would 
hardly  credit  the  earth-worm  with  the  possession  of  any 
mental  qualities ;  yet  it  has  been  shown  that  it  can  reason, 
and  can  communicate  after  its  fashion  with  its  fellows.  It  is 
now  my  intention  to  prove  that  it  has  the  power  of  memory. 
Has  the  reader  ever  seen  an  earth-worm  trying  to  carry  into 
its  burrow  a  pair  of  pine-needles  joined  at  their  bases?  It 
knows  just  where  to  seize  the  pair.  This  it  determines  by 
feeling,  or  moving  its  head  along  the  needles,  the  sense  of 
touch  being  very  acute  in  this  portion  of  its  body.  Hardly 
ever  is  a  mistake  made  by  seizing  the  free  or  apical  extremi- 
ties. Once  it  has  discovered  where  to  act,  this  position  is 
fixed  in  memory,  and  the  animal  exercises  the  latter  power 
in  dealing  with  objects  of  the  kind  in  all  subsequent  opera- 
tions. 

Almost  any  living  being  can  by  means  of  the  faculty  of 
memory  be  taught  by  man.    But  were  it  absent,  no  teaching 


362  Life  and  Immortality. 

would  be  of  the  slightest  avail.  In  most  cases  where  an 
animal  is  ferocious,  I  firmly  believe  that  fear,  and  not  ill- 
temper,  is  the  real  cause  of  its  conduct.  Let  a  little  kind- 
ness be  shown,  and  the  animal  will  never  forget  it.  Such 
acts,  repeatedly  performed,  assure  it  that  your  intentions 
are  well-meant,  and  it  soon  learns  to  recognize  in  you  a 
friend.  The  memory  of  your  goodness  will  often  be  recol- 
lected after  long  years  of  separation,  and  the  most  joyous 
feelings  be  manifested  at  the  sight  of  your  presence  upon 
returning  home.  Everyone  who  has  had  personal  experi- 
ence of  domesticated  animals  must  have  remarked  the  great 
strength  and  endurance  of  their  powers  of  memory.  The 
dog,  the  cat,  the  horse  and  the  ass  afford  so  many  familiar 
anecdotes  in  point,  that  I  shall  be  obliged  to  pass  them  over 
and  restrict  my  illustrations  to  a  few  animals  about  which 
little  has  been  said.. 

For  obstinacy  of  opinion  no  animal  can  excel  the  pig. 
He  is  a  creature  whom  few,  on  account  of  his  uncleanly 
person  and  disgusting  habits,  would  care  to  caress.  Yet 
there  is  no  animal  under  man's  care  that  enjoys  such  treat- 
ment better  than  he  does.  He  will  stand  for  hours  while 
you  rub  his  head  and  back,  the  very  impersonation  of  con- 
tentment, never  failing  to  express  his  thanks  and  apprecia- 
tion by  occasional  monosyllabic  grunts.  A  friend  of  ours, 
living  in  Northern  Indiana,  had  a  fine  fellow,  whom  he  had 
raised  from  infancy.  When  he  was  quite  young,  he  began  to 
show  him  considerable  attention,  picking  him  up  in  his  arms, 
and  fondling  him  in  the  most  affectionate  manner.  The 
choicest  food  was  always  reserved  for  him,  and  the  cosiest 
bed  of  straw  provided  for  his  nightly  rest.  In  process  of 
time  the  animal  grew  to  great  size,  but  he  never  forgot  these 
early  attentions.  He  expected  them  all  the  same.  When 
denied  what  he  deemed  were  his  lawful  rights,  he  would  set 
up  an  unearthly  squealing,  enough  to  split  the  ears  of  the 
groundlings,  and  refuse  to  be  comforted  until  his  demands 
were .  satisfied.  Never  was  the  master,  when  out  of  the 


Mind  in  Animals.  363 

house,  safe  from  his  intrusions.  He  would  besiege  him  in 
the  presence  of  company,  command  his  attention,  and  cry  in 
his  own  peculiar  fashion  if  he  thought  himself  ignored. 
Many  a  rough-and-tumble  game,  which  reminded  me  of  boys 
in  my  childhood  days,  would  they  have  together,  and  it  was 
really  amusing  to  see  them.  They  enjoyed  these  tussles, 
which  were  always  of  the  most  friendly  character. 

Stupid  as  the  life  of  a  cow  may  seem  to  be,  yet  there  has 
been  known  to  the  writer  some  cows  which  were  far  from  being 
dull  and  prosaic.  Our  same  Hoosier  friend  had  such  an 
animal,  whom  he  called  Daisy.  She  was  very  docile  and 
affectionate,  and  would  come,  even  when  grazing  in  the  most 
delightful  pasture  of  clover,  whenever  her  name  happened 
to  be  mentioned.  Daisy  was  a  pretty  creature,  and  very 
exemplary  in  her  conduct.  When  her  companions  would 
break  into  a  field  of  corn,  where  they  had  no  right  to  be, 
she  would  not  follow  their  wicked  example,  but  remained 
where  her  master  had  placed  her  and  the  rest  of  the  herd, 
showing  them,  as  it  were,  that  she  did  not  approve  of  such 
wilful  waywardness.  No  member  of  the  bovine  family  of 
animals  ever  showed  a  greater  fondness  for  love  than  Daisy. 
The  master  could  put  his  arms  around  her  neck,  and  lay  his 
face  against  the  side  of  her  own.  That  she  approved  of  such 
familiarity  was  evident,  for  she  would  show  that  she  did  by 
placing  her  lips  against  his  in  true  lover-like  fashion.  But 
there  came  a  time  when  this  attachment  to  the  master 
became  dissolved.  On  account  of  the  bad  behavior  of  the 
herd  in  general,  and  to  make  it  a  law-abiding  community,  it 
was  resolved  that  each  member  should  have  its  horns  sawn 
off  close  up  to  the  skull.  This,  it  was  thought,  would  im- 
prove the  temper  of  the  herd,  and  make  it  less  troublesome 
to  manage.  No  fear  was  entertained,  however,  for  Daisy, 
who  was  already  as  good  as  she  could  be,  but  Daisy  must 
undergo  the  same  cruel  punishment  for  the  sake  of  uniform- 
ity in  this  particular  in  the  herd.  It  had,  however,  the  oppo- 
site effect  upon  Daisy  from  what  it  had  upon  the  rest  of  the 


364  Life  and  Immortality. 

herd,  for  it  made  her  sullen  and  morose,  and  from  that  time 
she  resented  all  familiarity  upon  the  part  of  the  master.  She 
seemed  to  view  him  as  her  worst  enemy.  All  attempts  to 
settle  her  grievances  were  viewed  in  a  suspicious  manner, 
and  the  matter  of  reconciliation  had  at  length  to  be  aban- 
doned. 

Beasts,  there  is  no  doubt,  were  intended  to  be  the  servants 
of  man,  and  there  is  nothing  in  his  hands  half  so  powerful 
in  the  accomplishment  of  this  end  as  thoughtful  kindness. 
Inflexible  decision,  combined  with  gentleness  and  sympathy, 
are  irresistible  weapons  in  his  power,  and  no  animal  exists, 
I  firmly  believe,  which  cannot  be  subdued  if  the  right  man 
undertakes  the  task.  By  this  mixture  of  firmness  and  kind- 
ness many  a  wild  beast  of  a  horse  has  been  in  a  half-hour 
rendered  gentle  and  subservient  by  Rarey,  obeying  the  least 
sign  of  his  conqueror,  and  permitting  himself  to  be  freely 
handled  without  displaying  the  slightest  resentment. 

That  there  is  something  more  in  memory  than  a  mere 
production  of  a  material  brain  must  seem  probable  from  the 
examples  given.  In  several  cases  the  animals  were  without 
any  brains  at  all,  but  in  others,  where  a  brain  did  exist,  its 
material  particles  must  have  been  repeatedly  changed,  while 
the  ideas  impressed  upon  the  memory  still  remained  in  full 
force. 

Perhaps  no  attribute  of  the  mind  is  better  fitted  to  follow 
that  which  has  just  been  treated  than  Generosity.  But 
whether  we  accept  it  in  the  sense  of  liberality  or  magnanim- 
ity, it  is  certainly  a  very  lofty  quality,  and  one  which  infi- 
nitely ennobles  the  character  of  those  who  possess  it.  Taken 
in  the  former  sense,  it  is  an  attribute  of  Deity,  who  gives  us 
freely  all  that  we  have,  and  so  sets  us  an  example  of  gener- 
osity to  our  fellow-creatures.  Now,  if  it  be  admitted  that 
the  possession  of  generosity  ennobles  man's  character,  while 
the  lack  of  that  quality  debases  it,  then  the  inference  is  unde- 
niable that  when  we  find  a  beast  possessing  generosity,  and 
a  man  devoid  of  it,  the  beast  is  in  that  particular  the  superior 


Mind  in  Animals.  365 

of  the  man.  And  that  generosity,  being  a  divine  attribute, 
belongs  to  the  spirit  and  not  to  the  body,  no  believer  in 
Christianity  is  likely  to  deny.  Therefore,  wherever  we  find 
this  characteristic  developed,  we  must  admit  the  presence  of 
an  immortal  spirit. 

That  the  lower  animals  do  possess  generosity  in  the  sense 
of  Liberality  will  now  be  proved  from  circumstances  that  have 
occurred  within  my  own  observation.  My  first  proof  is  a 
very  interesting  one,  and  is  drawn  from  the  life  of  a  dog  that 
was  the  companion  of  my  school-boy  days.  Sport  was  the 
name  of  the  animal.  He  was  not  a  greedy,  selfish  creature, 
but  a  generous,  noble  fellow.  Many  an  act  of  self-sacrifice 
had  he  been  known  to  perform,  and  he  was  never  happier 
than  when  he  was  doing  some  good  to  his  fellows.  It  was 
not  unlike  him,  when  he  would  meet  a  poor,  strange  and 
hungry  animal  of  his  own  kind  by  the  roadway,  to  bring  him 
to  his  master's  house,  and  at  the  meal-hour  divide  with  the 
unfortunate  his  noon-day  allowance.  Between  him  and  a 
certain  cat,  called  Blackey,  which  was  also  a  member  of  the 
same  household,  there  existed  a  very  strong  friendship. 
Any  injury  done  the  cat  was  most  summarily  resented  by 
Sport.  He  would  share  his  meals  with  her,  and  never 
seemed  satisfied  unless  she  would  consent  to  take  the 
choicest  bits.  But  the  generosity  was  not  all  on  his  side,  for 
the  cat  certainly  rivalled  him  in  the  exercise  of  this  noble 
trait,  .which  all  acknowledge  to  be  one  of  the  noblest  charac- 
teristics of  the  human  mind.  When  Blackey  was  sick,  and 
unable  to  be  around,  much  of  the  time  of  the  dog  would  be 
spent  in  her  presence.  He  would  caress  her  with  his  paw, 
smooth  her  silken,  jet-black  fur  with  his  tongue,  and  seek  by 
every  means  in  his  power  to  raise  her  drooping  spirits  and 
alleviate  her  miseries.  No  animal,  not  even  man  himself, 
could  show  more  real  sympathy  for  a  fellow  in  distress  than 
Sport  did  for  Blackey. 

No  bird,  it  would  seem,  could  be  expected  to  manifest  so 
little  of  generosity  as  the  sparrow.  As  a  rule,  sparrows  are 


366  Life  and  Immortality. 

remarkable  for  their  ability  to  take  care  of  themselves. 
Theirs  is  a  nature  which  is  based  upon  self.  They  are  an 
avaricious  species,  and  little  they  reck  for  their  neighbors. 
As  the  eagle  is  known  to  treat  the  osprey,  and  the  skua-gull 
its  weaker  brethren,  so  the  sparrow  has  been  known  to  act 
towards  its  neighbors.  But  exceptions  exist  to  every  rule, 
and  we  are  pleased  to  record  an  honorable  one  in  the  case  of 
this  most  detested  species.  Close  by  a  maple-tree,  which  a 
pair  of  sparrows  had  appropriated  and  made  the  support  for 
their  home,  dwelt  a  sturdy  robin  with  his  mate.  Their 
home,  a  mud-lined  domicile,  was  placed  in  the  crotch  of  a 
small  tree.  Three  children  appeared  in  process  of  time  to 
bless  the  happy  couple.  Everything  went  along  smoothly 
and  pleasantly  with  the  robins,  the  sparrows  being  too  much 
engrossed  with  their  own  affairs  to  think  of  giving  them  any 
trouble.  But  a  tragedy  soon  happened  which,  sad  to  relate, 
foreboded  evil  and  consequent  death  to  the  nest- full  of  young 
robins.  Father  and  mother  had,  while  searching  for  food  for 
the  little  ones,  been  cruelly  killed  by  a  conscienceless  sports- 
man. But  the  fledglings,  which  seemed  doomed  to  die  the 
death  of  starvation,  were  spared  by  some  good  genius  who 
put  it  into  the  heart  of  the  sparrows  to  pass  that  way,  and 
thus  was  their  sad  and  pitiable  condition  brought  to  the  light 
of  day.  Their  heart-rending  appeals  for  food,  combined  with 
their  orphaned  situation,  struck  a  sympathetic  chord  in  the 
breast  of  the  sparrows,  and  day  after  day  these  birds,  whose 
chief  concern  naturally  seems  for  self,  might  be  seen  acting 
the  part  of  the  good  Samaritan  towards  these  unfortunate  of 
God's  children. 

But  let  us  now  pass  to  that  form  of  generosity  which  has 
been  called  Magnanimity.  Few  qualities  in  human  nature 
are  more  noble  than  the  capability  of  foregoing  revenge  when 
the  offender  is  powerless  to  resist.  This  unwillingness  to 
resent  an  injury,  even  though  the  power  to  do  so  is  present 
in  the  individual,  is  what  is  implied  by  magnanimity.  When 
we  find  those  beings  whom  we  designate  brutes  rising  to  a 


Mind  in  Animals.  367 

moral  grandeur  which  few  men  can  attain,  disdaining  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  opportunity  of  vengeance,  and  even 
rewarding  evil  with  good,  it  does  seem  an  utter  absurdity  to 
affirm  that  they  are  not  acting  under  the  inspiration  of  Him 
who  gave  us  the  celestial  maxim,  "  Love  your  enemies."  By 
their  actions  they  show  themselves  worthy  of  everlasting  life, 
and  what  they  deserve  they  will  assuredly  receive  at  the 
hands  of  Him  who  is  Justice  and  Truth.  Consciously,  or 
unconsciously,  the  feeling  of  magnanimity  is  acknowledged 
among  mankind.  Even  in  the  lowest  stratum  of  society  it 
is  recognized.  As  with  man,  so  with  the  lower  animals; 
and  there  are  many  instances  on  record  where  the  strong 
have  disdained,  no  matter  what  the  offence  had  been,  to 
make  reprisals  upon  the  weak. 

Bus  and  Jack  are  two  dogs  whose  acquaintance  I  made 
three  years  ago.  The  one  is  a  beagle,  and  the  other  a  pug. 
No  one  that  has  seen  these  animals  in  their  frolics  and  plays, 
would  ever  suspect  that  any  differences  could  arise  between 
them.  But  when  such  disagreements  do  occur,  and  there  is 
hardly  a  day  that  does  not  witness  a  dozen  or  more,  it  is 
always  Bus  that  is  the  instigator.  The  most  trifling  act  upon 
the  part  of  Jack  will  be  made  the  cause  of  offence,  and  an 
excuse  for  the  precipitation  of  a  quarrel.  In  a  rage,  Bus  will 
fly  into  the  face  of  Jack,  but  the  latter  will  coolly  shake  him 
off  and  walk  leisurely  away.  No  provocation  will  induce  him 
to  resent  an  insult  or  an  injury,  especially  where  Pug  or  a 
dog  smaller  than  himself  is  concerned.  It  is  not  that  he  is 
afraid  of  Pug,  for,  when  once  aroused  in  the  presence  of  equal 
or  even  superior  strength,  he  becomes  a  terror.  He  is  too 
magnanimous  to  avenge  a  wrong  done  him  by  one  less  pow- 
erful than  himself.  The  look  which  he  would  give  Pug,  after 
one  of  these  attacks  had  been  made,  was  one  of  pure  con- 
tempt, and  said,  as  plainly  as  words  could  have  said,  "  Your 
assaults  are  mere  child's  play,  and  are  unworthy  of  recogni- 
tion by  one  who  is  so  much  your  superior  in  feats  of  valor." 
That  Pug  felt  the  meaning  and  force  of  the  look  was  apparent, 


368  Life  and  Immortality. 

for  he  would  always  slink  away  abashed  to  some  corner, 
where  he  would  remain  for  an  hour  or  two  without  show- 
ing himself.  Over  and  over  again  has  Jack  allowed  little 
dogs  to  bite  him  without  troubling  himself  to  retaliate  ;  but 
if  a  big  dog  ventured  upon  an  insult,  that  dog  had  to  run  or 
pay  the  penalty  for  his  temerity.  No  dog  could  give  a  more 
disdainful  look  than  Jack,  and  that  look  always  gave  him  an 
easy  and  uninterrupted  passage  wherever  he  chose  to  go. 

Other  anecdotes  of  a  similar  nature  might  be  given  to  show 
that  animals  can  act  magnanimously  towards  each  other. 
That  they  are  as  capable  of  displaying  the  magnanimity  of 
their  nature  towards  men  whom  they  hated  has  frequently 
been  observed.  The  manager  of  a  mill  in  Fifeshire,  Scot- 
land, was,  according  to  Rev.  J.  G.  Wood,  very  much  disliked 
by  the  watch-dog,  probably  from  some  harsh  treatment 
which  the  animal  had  received  from  his  hands.  One  very 
dark  night  the  manager  had  strayed  from  his  path  and  fell 
over  the  dog.  Seeing  the  mistake  he  had  made,  and  finding 
that  he  could  not  recover  himself,  he  gave  himself  up  as  lost, 
for  the  dog  was  a  very  powerful  animal.  But  the  dog  was 
magnanimous  enough  to  spare  a  helpless  enemy,  and  to  lay 
aside  old  grievances.  Instead  of  seizing  the  prostrate  man 
by  the  throat,  as  a  brute  would  be  expected  to  do,  the  dog 
only  licked  his  face  and  exhibited  his  sympathy.  Ever  after- 
ward the  man  and  the  dog  were  fast  friends. 

Just  as  there  are  animals  capable  of  exercising  great  self- 
denial  by  giving  to  others  what  belongs  to  themselves,  and 
even  manifesting  a  generosity  which  would  put  human  nature 
to  the  blush,  so  there  are  animals  which  can  cheat  like  accom- 
plished swindlers.  As  all  Cheatery  requires  the  use  of  the 
intellect,  it  is  therefore  evident  that  the  most  intellectual 
animals  will  be  the  most  accomplished  cheats.  Dogs  have 
shown  themselves  to  be  considerable  adepts  in  cheating,  and 
this  we  would  naturally  expect.  Some  curious  and  rather 
ludicrous  instances  of  cheatery  upon  the  part  of  the  dog  are 
noticed.  We  once  knew  a  pair  of  dogs,  a  spaniel  and  a  pug, 


Mind  in  Animals.  369 

that  were  inmates  of  the  same  house.  They  were  very  jealous 
of  each  other  so  far  as  the  master  was  concerned,  and  neither 
could  endure  to  see  the  other  caressed.  It  happened  that 
the  spaniel  was  taken  quite  ill,  and  was  in  consequence  very 
much  cared  for  and  petted.  His  companion,  seeing  the 
attention  and  sympathy  that  were  bestowed  upon  him,  pre- 
tended to  be  sick  herself,  and,  going  to  a  corner  of  the  room, 
lay  down  upon  the  floor  and  looked  the  very  picture  of 
misery  and  distress.  A  cat  and  a  dog,  that  for  many  years 
were  members  of  the  writer's  family,  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
the  same  spot,  a  soft  cushion  at  the  head  of  a  sofa.  While 
they  were  the  best  of  friends,  yet  a  difference  of  opinion  would 
occasionally  arise,  and  a  slight  loss  of  temper  would  be  the 
result.  When  the  cat  would  be  in  the  possession  of  the 
cushion,  the  dog  would  torment  her  in  every  possible  way 
with  the  view  of  causing  her  to  abandon  the  pet  spot.  He 
would  pull  at  the  cushion,  seeking  to  drag  it  to  the  floor,  or, 
seizing  the  occupant  by  the  ear  or  tail,  endeavor  to  dislodge 
her  by  force.  But  the  cat,  seemingly  unmindful  of  what  was 
going  on,  and  the  very  impersonation  of  patience  all  the 
while,  would  refuse  to  give  up  so  comfortable  a  couch.  At 
last  the  dog  hit  upon  a  ruse  which  he  knew  would  bring  the 
cat  down  from  the  sofa.  He  rushed  out  into  the  kitchen, 
and  began  acting  as  though  in  pursuit  of  a  mouse;  He  and 
puss  had  often  engaged  in  such  diverting  business.  This 
was  more  than  the  latter  could  stand.  She  was  down  from 
her  cozy  bed  in  an  instant,  and  was  soon  by  the  side  of  the 
dog.  But  as  soon  as  puss,  all  ablaze  with  excitement,  had 
her  head  in  a  corner  and  was  straining  her  eyes  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  supposed  mouse,  the  dog  ran  to  the  sofa  at 
full  speed,  jumped  on  the  cushion,  curled  himself  round,  and 
was  happy.  Poor  puss,  perceiving  that  the  dog  had  left  her, 
was  not  slow  to  discern  that  she  had  been  imposed  upon  by 
the  latter,  and  that  it  was  only  a  trick  that  had  been  played 
upon  her  by  her  shrewd  companion,  that  he  might  get  pos- 
session of  the  soft  spot  upon  the  sofa.  She,  however,  bore 


3/o  Life  and  Immortality. 

it  good-naturedly  and  decorously,  and  was  ever  afterward  on 
the  alert  for  these  little  tricks  of  her  canine  friend. 

Birds  can  be  as  capable  of  cheating,  not  only  each  other, 
but  other  animals.  A  crow,  belonging  to  John  Smedley,  a 
resident  of  Lima,  Pa.,  was  an  adept  in  the  business.  When 
dinner  was  preparing,  he  would  fly  around  the  corner  of  the 
house,  set  up  a  terrific  cawing  as  though  in  great  distress, 
and  when  the  mistress  of  the  house,  with  whom  he  was  a 
great  favorite,  would  come  out  on  a  tour  of  investigation, 
the  rascally  bird  would  elude  her  and  manage  to  steal  round 
to  the  table  in  the  opposite  direction  and  seize  what  food 
suited  him  the  best,  which  he  would  carry  to  the  top  of  the 
house,  where  he  would  eat  it  at  his  leisure.  No  persuasions 
•vould  induce  him  to  come  down,  for  he  knew  that  such 
action  was  a  breach  of  the  peace,  and  he  was  fearful  of  the 
punishment,  that  of  confinement  to  a  cage,  which  would  fol- 
low. When,  however,  he  felt  assured  that  his  mistress  had 
forgiven  the  wrong-doing,  he  would  fly  down  to  the  porch, 
and  do  his  utmost  to  convince  her  that  he  was  a  well-mean- 
ing bird,  and  that  he  was  thoroughly  ashamed  of  his  actions. 
But  there  was  one  member  of  the  family  that  utterly  de- 
tested the  bird.  It  was  the  dog  Rover.  Many  a  trick  had 
the  bird  practised  upon  the  latter,  especially  at  meal  time. 
Poor  Rover  was  not  allowed  to  eat  in  peace.  When  he 
would  be  wholly  absorbed  in  his  dinner,  the  crow  would 
approach  him  in  the  rear,  give  him  a  severe  twirl  of  the  tail, 
and  then  in  a  twinkling  fly  to  one  side,  looking  the  very 
picture  of  innocence.  But  ere  the  dog  had  recovered  his  self- 
possession  and  was  ready  to  resume  his  feeding  again,  the  bird 
had  captured  the  daintiest  morsel,  and  was  off  to  the  tree-top. 
Discomfited  and  outwitted,  the  dog  would  rush  to  the  base  of 
the  tree,  bark  his  growls  of  anger  and  defiance,  while  the  crow 
would  look  quizzically  down  from  above,  and  chuckle  with 
delight. 

Many  of  my  readers  may,  perhaps,  remember  the  story  of 
the  two  dogs  that  used  to  hunt  the  hare  in  concert,  the  one 


Mind  in  A  nimals.  371 

starting  the  hare  and  driving  it  toward  the  spot  where  his 
accomplice  lay  concealed.  I  recall  an  instance  where  a 
somewhat  similar  arrangement  was  made,  only  the  two  con- 
tracting parties,  instead  of  being  two  dogs,  were  a  dog  and 
a  hawk,  the  latter  making  use  of  his  wings  in  driving  the 
prey  out  of  the  copse  into  the  open  ground.  Innumerous 
examples  of  such  alliances  are  known,  and  in  all  of  them 
there  is  manifest  the  curious  fact  that  two  animals  can 
arrange  a  mode  of  cheating  a  third.  One  of  the  principal 
stratagems  used  in  war,  that  is  the  ambuscade,  whereby  the 
enemy  is  induced  to  believe  that  danger  is  imminent  in  one 
direction,  when  it  really  lies  in  the  opposite  and  unsus- 
pecting direction,  is  employed.  No  one  would  admit  that  a 
general  who  contrived  to  draw  the  enemy  into  an  ambus- 
cade acted  by  instinct.  The  act  would  be  construed  as 
proof  of  the  possession  of  reasoning  powers  surpassing  those 
of  the  adversary.  And  if  this  be  the  case  with  the  man,  why 
not  with  the  dog,  or  with  the  raven  or  hawk,  when  the 
deception  is  carried  out  by  precisely  the  same  line  of  rea- 
soning? 

Beasts  possess,  in  common  with  man,  the  sense  of  Humor. 
This  is  developed  in  many  ways.  Generally  it  assumes  the 
phase  of  teasing  or  annoying  others,  and  thus  deriving 
pleasure  or  amusement  from  their  discomfort.  Sometimes, 
both  with  man  and  beast,  it  takes  the  form  of  bodily  torture, 
the  struggles  of  the  victim  being  highly  amusing  to  the  tor- 
turer. Civilized  man  has  now  learned  to  regard  the  infliction 
of  pain  upon  a  fellow  as  anything  but  an  amusement,  and 
would  rather  suffer  the  agony  than  inflict  it  upon  another. 
But  with  the  savage  it  is  otherwise,  for  there  is  no  entertain- 
ment so  fascinating  as  the  infliction  of  bodily  pain  upon  a 
human  being.  Among  our  Indian  tribes,  torture  is  a  solemn 
usage  of  war,  which  every  warrior  expects  for  himself  if  capt- 
ured, and  which  he  is  certain  to  inflict  upon  any  prisoner 
whom  he  may  happen  to  take.  The  tortures  which  he  inflicts 
are  absolutely  fiendish,  and  yet  a  whole  tribe  will  assemble 


3/2  Life  and  Immortality. 

around  the  stake,  and  gloat  upon  the  agonies  which  are 
being  borne  by  a  fellow-creature.  Similarly  the  African 
savage  inflicts  the  most  excruciating  sufferings  upon  the  man 
or  woman  accused  of  witchcraft,  employing  means  too  horri- 
ble to  be  mentioned.  But  in  all  these  cases  the  cruelty 
seems  to  be  in  a  great  measure  owing  to  obtuseness  of  per- 
ception. Yet  the  savage  who  binds  his  victim  to  a  stake, 
and  perforates  the  sensitive  parts  of  his  body  with  burning 
pine-splinters,  behaves  very  much  like  a  child  who  amuses 
itself  by  catching  flies,  pulling  off  their  wings  and  legs,  and 
watching  their  unavailing  efforts  to  escape. 

Many  years  ago  cockchafers  were  publicly  sold  in  Paris 
for  children  to  torture  to  death.  The  amusement  consisted 
in  running  a  hooked  pin  through  the  insect's  tail,  fastening 
a  thread  thereto,  and  watching  the  poor  creature  spin  in  the 
air.  After  the  poor  beetle  was  too  enfeebled  to  expand  its 
wings,  it  was  slowly  dismembered,  the  child  being  greatly 
amused  at  its  endeavors  to  crawl,  as  leg  after  leg  was  pulled 
from  the  body.  A  similar  custom,  though  in  a  more  cruel 
form,  prevails  in  Italy,  the  creatures  which  are  tortured  by 
way  of  sport  being  more  capable  of  feeling  pain  than  are 
insects.  Birds  are  employed  in  this  country  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  children.  A  string  is  tied  to  the  leg  of  the  bird,  and 
the  unfortunate  creature,  after  its  powers  of  flight  are  ex- 
hausted, is  generally  plucked  alive  and  dismembered.  The 
idea  of  cruelty  does  not  seem  to  enter  at  all  in  these  prac- 
tices, but  they  are  done  from  the  sheer  incapacity  of  under- 
standing that  a  bird  or  a  beast  can  be  a  fellow-creature. 
Italians  are  notorious  for  their  cruel  treatment  of  animals, 
and  if  remonstrated  with  become  very  much  astonished  and 
reply,  "  Non  e  Cristiano,"  that  is  to  say,  "  It  is  not  a  Chris- 
tian." Englishmen  have  little  to  boast  of  on  this  score. 
Bear-baiting  was  abolished  by  the  Puritans,  not  because  it 
gave  pain  to  the  bear,  but  because  it  gave  pleasure  to  the 
spectators.  Even  at  the  present  day,  both  in  England  and 
in  this  country,  there  is  a  latent  hankering  after  similar 


Mind  in  Animals.  373 

scenes,  and  dog-fighting,  rat-killing  and  cock-fighting,  even 
though  they  are  now  contrary  to  law,  are  still  practised  in 
secret.  Similarly  the  sense  of  humor  is  developed  in  the 
lower  animals  by  causing  pain  or  annoyance  to  some  other 
creature,  and  the  animal  acts  in  precisely  the  same  manner 
as  a  savage  or  a  child. 

Sparrows,  as  might  be  expected  from  their  character,  will 
gratify  their  feelings  of  aversion  by  banding  together  for  the 
purpose  of  mobbing  some  creature  to  which  they  have  an 
objection.  In  Hardwicke's  Science  Gossip  for  December, 
1872,  there  is  a  short  account  of  a  number  of  sparrows  mob- 
bing a  cat.  Evidently  the  cat  had  intended  making  a  meal 
on  one  of  the  birds,  but  was  greatly  mistaken,  for  the  spar- 
rows dashed  upon  him  so  fiercely,  that  he  soon  turned  tail 
and  ran  into  the  house,  one  of  the  sparrows  actually  pursu- 
ing him  into  the  house.  The  poor  cat  ran  up-stairs,  and 
was  found  crouching  in  terror  under  one  of  the  beds.  This 
happened  in  London,  where  the  sparrows  are  less  numerous 
now  than  they  used  to  be. 

No  bird  of  my  knowledge  possesses  a  larger  amount  of 
humor  than  the  crow.  I  have  known  him  to  feign  an  attack 
upon  a  distant  part  of  a  field  of  newly-sprouted  corn,  which 
was  being  guarded  by  a  farmer  with  his  gun.  When  the 
latter  would  be  drawn  to  that  part  of  the  field  where  the 
attack  was  to  be  made,  the  sagacious  bird  would  manage  to 
outwit  him,  slip  around  to  the  other  side,  drop  down  into 
the  field  and  obtain  a  few  tender  sprouts  before  the  farmer 
hardly  knew  what  was  going  on.  But  he  was  always  up  and 
away  at  the  opportune  moment,  and,  perched  upon  a  fence- 
rail,  beyond  the  range  of  the  gun,  would  enjoy  one  of  his 
rollicking  cawing  laughs  at  the  farmer's  expense.  Crows 
that  are  tame  have  the  sense  of  humor  more  keenly  devel- 
oped than  their  wild  brethren  of  the  fields  and  the  woods. 
I  once  knew  a  tame  crow  that  took  great  pleasure  in  annoy- 
ing a  dog  that  lived  in  the  same  family.  Carlo,  as  the  dog 
was  called,  was  never  so  contented  as  when  allowed  to  sleep 


3  74  Life  and  Tm  mortality. 

the  hours  of  the  morning  away,  after  a  night's  carousal,  in  a 
quiet,  sunny  spot  in  the  backyard.  When  the  dog  had 
become  fast  wrapped  in  the  arms  of  the  god  of  slumber,  the 
crow  would  steal  to  his  side,  give  his  ear  a  sharp  pull,  and 
when  the  dog  would  awake  and  look  around  the  crow  would 
be  busy  in  gleaning,  the  most  unconcerned  creature  in  the 
whole  yard.  Again  and  again  would  she  annoy  the  poor 
animal,  and  always  with  the  same  evident  sense  of  delight, 
which  I  could  always  read  in  the  mischievous  twinkle  that 
lurked  in  her  eyes,  till  the  dog,  bewildered  and  unable 
to  account  for  such  mysterious  actions,  would  silently 
skulk  away  to  other  parts,  where  he  hoped  to  be  free  from 
all  intrusion.  Even  the  mistress  of  the  house  was  not  ex- 
empt from  her  annoyance.  She  would  carry  off  everything 
she  coula  lay  hold  of,  and  always  hid  them  away  in  one 
place,  that  is,  in  a  large  crevice  on  the  top  of  the  house 
between  the  peak  of  the  roof  and  the  chimney.  One  day 
the  mistress's  spectacles  disappeared.  Search  was  instituted 
everywhere,  but  without  effect.  None  knew  better  than  the 
bird  what  the  trouble  was.  While  the  search  was  going  on, 
she  busied  herself  in  looking  around,  and  seemed  as  desirous 
of  rinding  the  missing  glasses  as  any  member  of  the  house- 
hold. The  look  which  the  bird  gave  showed  that  she  en- 
joyed the  situation  of  affairs  immensely,  and  considered  it  a 
fine  joke  that  she  had  played  upon  her  mistress.  After  a 
few  days  the  lost  spectacles  were  restored  to  their  accus- 
tomed place,  but  no  one  ever  positively  knew  how  they 
came  thither. 

Domestic  birds,  as  a  rule,  are  remarkable  for  the  generosity 
which  the  master-bird  shows  to  his  inferiors.  He  will 
scratch  the  ground,  unearth  some  food,  and  then,  instead  of 
eating  it  himself,  will  call  some  of  his  favorites,  and  give  them 
the  delicacy  for  which  he  labored.  But  I  have  met  with  a 
few  cases  where  the  cock  scratched  as  usual,  called  his  wives, 
and,  when  they  had  gathered  round  him,  ate  the  morsel  him- 
self. It  was  but  a  practical  joke  that  he  had  perpetrated 


Mind  in  Animals.  375 

upon  them,  and  that  they  felt  it  as  such  their  looks  only  too 
strongly  testified.  There  was  a  relish  of  delight  in  it  for  the 
cock,  for  the  cackle,  which  he  immediately  gave,  assured  me 
of  this  fact  as  much  as  the  laugh  of  a  man  could  have  done 
who  had  played  such  a  joke  upon  one  of  his  fellows. 

Parrots  are  much  given  to  practical  joking,  after  the  ways 
of  mankind.  A  parrot,  belonging  to  an  aunt,  had  a  bad  habit 
of  whistling  for  a  dog,  and  then  enjoying  the  animal's  bewil- 
derment and  discomfiture.  She  would  call  the  cat,  as  her 
mistress  was  accustomed  to  do,  and  when  puss  would  come, 
expecting  some  dainty  article  of  food,  she  would  call  out  in 
her  severest  tone,  "  Be  off,  you  hussy !"  and  the  cat  would 
make  all  possible  speed  for.  a  place  of  security,  greatly  to  the 
amusement  of  the  parrot  from  her  perch  in  the  cage.  There 
have  been  known  parrots  that  would  play  practical  jokes 
upon  human  beings,  but  dogs  and  cats  seem  to  be  the  prin- 
cipal victims  of  the  parrot's  sense  of  humor. 

Animals  not  only  show  their  playfulness  in  such  tricks  as 
have  been  mentioned,  but  many  of  them  are  able  to  appreciate 
and  take  part  in  the  games  played  by  children.  When  I 
was  a  boy  I  knew  a  dog,  a  species  of  greyhound,  which  was 
an  accomplished  player  at  the  well-known  game  called  tag, 
or  touch.  Quite  as  much  enthusiasm  was  displayed  by  the 
animal  as  by  any  of  the  human  players.  He  would  dart 
away  from  the  boy  who  happened  to  be  "  touch  "  with  an 
anxiety  that  almost  appeared  terror.  It  was  an  impossibility 
to  touch  the  clever  canine  player ;  but  he  was  a  generous 
creature,  with  a  strong  sense  of  justice,  and  so,  when  he 
thought  that  his  turn  ought  to  come,  he  would  stand  still 
and  wait  quietly  to  be  touched.  His  manner  of  touching 
his  play-fellows  was  always  by  grasping  the  end  of  their 
trousers  with  his  teeth,  and  as  it  was  impossible  for  the  boy 
to  stop  when  so  seized  in  full  course,  the  dog  was  often 
jerked  along  the  ground  for  some  little  distance. 

Hide-and-seek  is  a  game  which  is  often  learned  and  en- 
joyed by  many  animals.  I  have  often  been  an  interested 


376  Life  and  Immortality. 

spectator  of  the  play  in  which  two  dogs  were  the  participants. 
It  was  as  exciting  as  such  a  diversion  could  possibly  be 
between  two  children.  For  an  hour  at  a  time  I  have  watched 
the  fun,  and  the  players  seemed  not  to  abate  the  least  jot  or 
tittle  from  their  ardor  and  enthusiasm.  They  were  appar- 
ently as  fresh  then  as  at  the  beginning.  In  due  time  the 
game  ceased  as  if  by  mutual  consent,  but  the  animals  did  not 
seek  some  cool,  quiet  spot  for  comfort  and  rest,  but  started 
off  to  the  woods  for  some  further  diversion,  from  which  their 
voices  were  soon  heard,  telling  that  they  were  in  pursuit  of  a 
rabbit  or  the  ignoble  ground-hog. 

We  have  far  from  exhausted  the  list  of  examples  at  hand 
to  show  that  the  lower  animals  possess  a  sense  of  humor. 
But  what  use,  it  may  be  asked,  can  the  capacity  of  humor 
subserve  in  the  next  world  ?  Much  the  same,  I  presume, 
that  it  subserves  in  this.  There  are  some  in  this  world  in 
whom  the  sense  of  humor  is  absolutely  wanting.  Estimable 
as  they  may  be  in  character,  they  are  just  solemn  prigs,  and 
I  should  be  very  sorry  to  resemble  them  in  the  world, 
whither,  it  is  hoped,  all  life  tendeth. 

Pride,  Jealousy,  Anger,  Revenge  and  Tyranny,  while  not 
very  pleasing  characteristics,  belong,  as  such,  to  the  imma- 
terial, and  not  to  the  material,  part  of  man.  That  the  lower 
animals  possess  these  qualities  will  be  seen  from  what  follows. 
Hence  the  inference  to  be  drawn  from  that  fact  must  be  quite 
obvious. 

Taking  these  characteristics  in  order,  Pride,  or  Self-esteem, 
is  developed  as  fully  in  many  animals  as  in  the  proudest  of  the 
human  race.  Most  conspicuously  is  this  shown  in  animals 
which  herd  together.  There  is  always  one  leader  at  the 
head,  who  will  not  permit  any  movement  to  be  made  without 
his  order,  and  who  resents  the  least  interference  with  his 
authority.  This  is  particularly  the  case  with  the  deer,  the 
horse  and  the  ox.  Even  when  these  animals  are  domesti- 
cated, and  the  habits  of  their  feral  life  have  materially 
changed,  the  feeling  of  pride  exists  to  the  fullest  extent. 


Mind  in  Animals.  377 

Whoever  has  carefully  watched  and  studied  the  inhabitants 
of  a  farm-yard  cannot  fail  to  have  observed  that  the  cows 
have  their  laws  of  precedence  and  etiquette  as  clearly  defined 
as  those  of  any  European  Court.  Every  cow  knows  her 
own  place  and  keeps  it.  She  will  never  condescend  to  take 
a  lower,  nor  would  she  be  allowed  to  assume  a  higher.  A 
new-comer  in  a  farm-yard  has  about  as  much  chance  of 
approaching  the  rack  at  feeding-time  as  a  new  boy  at  school 
has  of  getting  near  the  fire  on  a  cold  winter  day.  But  as 
the  young  calf  increases  in  growth,  and  is  nearing  maturity, 
she  is  allowed  to  mingle  with  her  companions  on  tolerably 
equal  terms.  Should,  however,  a  younger  animal  than  her- 
self be  admitted,  it  is  amusing  to  see  with  what  gratification 
she  bullies  the  new-comer,  and  how  much  higher  she  ranks 
in  her  own  estimation  when  she  finds  she  is  no  longer  the 
junior. 

But  should  the  fates  be  propitious,  and  she  should  arrive 
at  the  dignity  of  being  senior  cow,  she  never  fails  to  assert 
that  dignity  on  every  occasion.  When  the  cattle  are  taken 
out  of  the  yard  to  their  pasture  in  the  morning,  and  when 
they  are  returned  to  it  in  the  evening,  she  will  not  allow  any 
except  herself  to  take  the  lead.  An  instance  is  recorded 
where  the  man  in  charge  of  a  herd  of  cows  would  not  permit 
the  "  ganger,"  as  the  head  cow  is  often  called,  to  go  out  first. 
The  result  was  that  she  refused  to  go  out  at  all.  Therefore, 
to  get  her  to  go  out  of  the  yard,  the  man  had  to  drive  all  the 
other  cows  back  again,  so  that  she  might  take  her  proper 
place  at  the  head  of  the  herd. 

Few  people  know  much  about  the  real  disposition  of  the 
mule.  Judging  from  popular  ideas  respecting  the  animal, 
one  would  think  that  it  had  no  pride  in  its  composition.  It 
is  in  reality  a  very  proud  animal,  and  fond  of  good  society. 
One  of  his  most  striking  characteristics  is  his  aversion  to  the 
ass,  and  the  pride  which  he  takes  in  his  relation  to  the  horse. 
An  ass  would  be  hardly  safe  in  a  drove  of  mules,  for  he 
would,  in  all  probability,  be  kicked  and  lamed  by  his  proud 


378 


Life  and  Immortality. 


relatives ;  whereas  a  horse,  on  the  contrary,  takes  a  distin- 
guished position,  the  mules  not  only  crowding  around  him 
and  following  his  movements,  but  exhibiting  a  violent  jeal- 
ousy, each  striving  to  get  the  nearest  to  their  distinguished 
relative. 

We  have  seen  the  pride  of  rank  and  love  of  precedence  in 
cows,  and  the  pride  of  ancestry  in  mules.  There  is,  however, 
a  pride  that  takes  the  form  of  sensitiveness  to  ridicule. 
Nothing  is  so  galling  to  a  proud  man  as  to  find  himself  the 
object  of  ridicule.  The  same  trait  of  character  is  to  be  found 
in  many  animals,  and  especially  in  those  that  have  been 
domesticated,  for  it  is  in  these  that  we  have  the  most  oppor- 
tunities for  observation.  All  high-bred  dogs  are  exceedingly 


EXHIBITION  OF  GRANDEUR. 

Male  Peacock  in  Presence  of  Some  Barn- Yard  Fowls. 


Mind  in  Animals.  379 

sensitive  to  ridicule.  We  knew  of  a  cat  that  was  quite  con- 
scious if  spoken  of  in  a  disparaging  manner,  and  testified  his 
disapprobation  by  arching  his  tail,  holding  himself  very  stiff 
indeed,  and  marching  slowly  out  of  the  room. 

There  is,  however,  another  form  of  pride  which  is  often  to 
be  seen  among  the  lower  animals,  but  more  especially  among 
birds  notable  for  gaudy  or  abundant  plumage.  This  is  the 
pride  which  manifests  itself  in  personal  appearance.  Vanity 
is  the  name  which  is  currently  applied  to  this  form  of  pride. 
Those  who  have  observed  a  peacock  in  all  the  glory  of  his 
starry  train  will  recognize  the  intense  pride  he  feels  at  his 
own  splendor.  This  display  of  his  magnificent  train  is  not 
for  the  purpose  of  attracting  the  homage  of  his  plainly- 
attired  mates  solely,  but  seems  to  be  intended  to  evoke 
the  admiration  of  human  beings  as  well.  Not  even  the 
homage  of  birds,  whom  he  regards  his  inferiors,  is  to  be 
despised. 

We  have  seen  him,  with  his  train  fully  spread,  displaying 
his  grandeur  around  a  dozen  or  more  barn-yard  fowls,  and 
apparently  as  satisfied  with  the  effect  he  produced,  as  he 
stalked  majestically  among  them,  as  if  he  had  been  sur- 
rounded by  his  own  kith  and  kin.  Then  there  is  the  turkey. 
No  movements  are  more  grotesque  than  his.  See  him  as  he 
struts  about  in  his  nuptial  plumage,  and  yet  no  bird,  notwith- 
standing the  ludicrousness  of  his  behavior,  surveys  himself 
with  greater  complacency.  The  whidah-bird,  or  widow- 
bird,  as  it  is  often  called,  exhibits  this  trait  of  character  in  its 
highest  development.  He  is  wonderfully  proud  of  his  beau- 
tiful tail,  and,  as  long  as  he  wears  it,  loses  no  opportunity  of 
displaying  it  to  every  person  who  visits  his  cage.  But  when 
the  moulting  season  has  arrived,  and  he  has  taken  on  the 
plain,  tailless  attire  of  his  mate,  a  change  as  great  has  come 
over  his  manner,  and,  instead  of  exhibiting  himself  in  all  his 
pride  and  glory,  he  mopes  listlessly  and  stupidly  about,  and 
seemingly  ashamed  of  his  mean  condition.  In  all  these 
instances  the  character  of  pride  in  personal  appearance  is 


380  Life  and  Immortality. 

as  strongly  developed  as  it  is  possible  for  it  to  be  in  any 
human  being. 

That  peculiar  uneasiness,  which  arises  from  the  fear  that 
a  rival  will  dispossess  us  of  the  affection  of  one  whom  we 
love,  or  the  suspicion  that  he  has  already  done  so,  is  termed 
jealousy.  There  are  two  forms  of  this  passion,  one  con- 
nected with  the  love  of  some  other  being,  and  the  other 
dependent  on  the  love  of  self.  But  it  is  the  former,  whose 
definition  begins  the  present  paragraph,  with  which  we  shall 
exclusively  deal.  It  is  evident  from  the  meaning  of  jealousy, 
as  given  above,  that  the  power  of  reasoning  is  implied,  and 
that  any  creature  by  which  it  is  manifested  must  be  able  to 
deduce  a  conclusion  from  premises.  No  matter  if  the  con- 
clusion drawn  by  the  animal  be  wrong,  the  process,  however 
incorrect  it  may  be,  is,  it  cannot  be  denied,  still  one  of  reason- 
ing. All  who  have  possessed  pet  animals  must  be  familiar 
with  the  exceeding  jealousy  displayed  by  most  of  them. 
Most  strongly  is  this  feeling  manifested  when  an  animal  has 
been  the  only  pet  and  another  is  introduced  into  the  house. 
Where  there  are  two  or  more  dogs  in  the  same  family,  one  is 
often  amused  at  the  boundless  jealousy  displayed  toward 
each  other  while  engaged  in  the  service  of  the  master, 
although  at  other  times  they  were  on  the  most  excellent 
terms.  Bus  is  the  name  of  a  favorite  dog  belonging  to  a 
friend.  No  more  affectionate  dog  ever  lived.  Beagle  was 
his.  companion.  When  they  were  by  themselves,  life  was  a 
round  of  frolics  and  rambles.  No  matter  how  rough  and 
exciting  their  plays  were,  they  never  got  cross,  but  endured 
everything  with  patience  and  forgiveness  of  spirit.  Beagle 
was  a  clever  animal,  and  very  fond  of  the  chase.  Many  a 
ground-hog  would  he  dislodge  from  its  burrow  and  fight  to 
the  death,  while  Bus  would  look  on  with  wonder  and  admi- 
ration. But  let  the  slightest  attention  be  shown  by  the 
master  to  Beagle,  and  Bus's  jealousy  and  anger  became 
unbounded.  He  would  fly  at  his  friend  in  the  most  infuri- 
ated manner,  rending  him  with  tooth  and  claw,  while  Beagle 


Mind  in  Animals.  381 

would  quietly  slip  around  the  corner  of  the  house  to  get  out 
of  the  reach  of  his  companion's  temper.  Beagle,  being  a 
large  and  powerful  dog,  had  in  him  the  ability  to  give  Bus  a 
very  sound  whipping,  but  he  was  too  noble  and  magnani- 
mous a  creature  to  take  advantage  of  one  younger  and 
smaller  than  himself.  He  would  always  allow  Bus  to  have 
his  own  way,  knowing  that  the  passion  which  was  lacerat- 
ing the  bosom  of  his  young  companion  and  playmate  would 
soon  spend  itself,  and  the  latter,  ashamed  and  abashed,  would 
be  soon  seeking  forgiveness  and  reconciliation. 

Even  in  such  rarely  tamed  animals  as  the  common  mouse 
the  feeling  of  jealousy  has  been  known  to  be  so  intense  as 
to  lead  to  murder.  A  young  lady,  one  of  Rev.  J.  G.  Wood's 
correspondents,  had  succeeded  in  taming  a  common  brown 
mouse  so  completely  that  it  would  eat  out  of  her  hand  and 
suffer  itself  to  be  taken  off  the  floor.  She  had  also  a  tame 
white  mouse  in  a  cage.  One  morning  when  she  went  to  feed 
the  white  mouse,  as  was  her  usual  custom,  she  found  it  lying 
dead  on  the  bottom  of  the  cage,  and  beside  it  was  its  mur- 
derer, the  brown  mouse.  The  cage  being  opened,  the  latter 
made  its  escape,  as  though  fearful  of  the  consequences  that 
might  ensue,  but  how  it  had  managed  to  gain  admission  was 
always  a  mystery. 

Instances  are  on  record  where  the  jealousy  of  a  rival  has 
been  restrained  for  long  years  through  fear,  and  has  ulti- 
mately broken  out  when  the  cause  of  the  fear  has  been 
removed.  A  case  of  the  kind  came  under  our  notice  some 
few  years  ago.  There  were  two  cocks,  belonging  to  different 
breeds,  whom  fate  had  placed  as  denizens  of  the  same  family. 
One  was  a  magnificent  dunghill  cock,  and  the  other  a  Malay, 
a  cowardly  caitiff,  that  was  kept  in  fear  and  subjection  by 
the  former.  In  the  course  of  events  the  dunghill  cock  sud- 
denly died.  His  rival,  coming  by  chance  on  his  dead  body, 
ind  perceiving  that  the  time  had  come  to  wreak  out  the 
^ixture  of  hatred  and  revenge  that  had  lain  smouldering 
m  his  bosom  for  years,  instantly  sprang  upon  it,  kicked, 


382  Life  and  Immortality. 

spurred  and  trampled  upon  the  lifeless  bird,  and,  standing 
upon  the  corpse,  flapped  his  wings  in  triumph,  as  it  were, 
and  crowed  himself  hoarse  with  the  most  disgusting  energy. 
He  immediately  took  possession  of  the  harem,  but  he  was 
far  from  'being  the  noble,  generous  and  unselfish  creature 
that  his  predecessor  had  been.  Again,  comparing  man  with 
beast,  it  is  at  once  apparent  that  the  bird  in  this  instance 
acted  exactly  as  a  savage  does  when  his  enemy  has  fallen, 
for  the  savage  not  only  exults  over  the  dead  body  of  an 
enemy,  especially  if  the  latter  has  been  very  formidable  in 
life,  but  also  mutilates  in  futile  and  silly  revenge  the  form 
which  he  feared  when  alive. 

Tyranny,  or  the  oppression  of  the  weak  by  the  strong,  is 
another  of  the  many  traits  of  character  common  to  man  and 
the  lower  animals.  But  whether  or  not  that  strength  belongs 
to  the  body  or  the  mind,  it  is  tyranny  all  the  same.  Taken 
in  its  most  obvious  form,  it  not  only  manifests  itself  in  many 
of  the  animals  in  the  oppression  of  the  weak  by  the  strong, 
but  also  in  the  killing  and  the  eating  of  the  same,  even  though 
they  be  of  the  same  species.  Human  cannibals  act  in  just 
the  same  manner,  eating  their  enemies  after  they  have  killed 
them.  There  is  hardly  an  animal  in  which  the  milder  forms 
of  tyranny  may  not  be  found.  Insects,  especially,  manifest  it 
in  a  light  manner  when  they  drive  away  their  fellows  from 
some  morsel  of  food  which  they  desire  to  keep  to  themselves. 
Among  gregarious  animals,  the  herd  or  flock  is  always  under 
the  command  of  an  individual  who  has  fought  his  way  to  the 
front,  and  who  will  rule  with  imperious  sway  until  he  has 
become  old  and  in  turn  has  been  supplanted  by  a  younger 
and  more  vigorous  rival.  In  the  poultry-yards  the  same  form 
of  tyranny  is  manifest,  one  cock  invariably  assuming  the  lead- 
ership, no  matter  how  many  may  be  the  number  of  birds. 

There  is  a  curious  analogy  between  these  birds  and  human 
beings,  especially  those  of  the  East,  whether  at  the  present 
day  or  in  more  ancient  times.  Many  petty  chieftains  are  found 
in  Eastern  countries,  but  there  is  always  to  be  met  with  one 


Mind  in  A  nimals.  383 

among  them  who  is  more  mighty  than  the  rest,  and  who 
holds  his  place  by  superior  force,  either  of  intellect  or  mili- 
tary power.  Challenged  by  one  of  the  inferior  chiefs  and 
victorious,  he  retains  his  post,  but  if  vanquished,  his  con- 
queror takes  his  place,  his  property  and  his  wives.  But 
curious  to  relate,  with  men  as  with  birds,  the  members  of 
the  harem  seem  to  trouble  themselves  very  little,  if  any, 
about  the  change  of  master.  The  Scriptures  are  full  of 
allusions  to  the  invariable  custom  that  the  conqueror  takes 
the  possession  of  the  harem  belonging  to  the  vanquished. 
David  did  so  with  regard  to  the  women  of  Saul's  household, 
and  when  Nabal  died,  who  had  defied  the  authority  of  David, 
so  the  latter,  as  a  matter  of  course,  took  possession  of  his 
wife,  together  with  the  rest  of  his  property.  And  when 
Absalom  rebelled  against  David,  he  publicly  took  possession 
of  his  father's  harem,  which  was  a  sign  that  he  had  assumed 
the  kingdom. 

Where  a  number  of  creatures  are  confined  in  the  same 
place,  a  very  curious  sort  of  tyranny  is  sometimes  mani- 
fested. Mandarin  ducks,  according  to  Mr.  Bennett,  when 
confined  to  an  aviary,  show  a  very  querulous  disposition  at 
feeding-time.  The  males  of  one  and  the  same  kind  of  a  dif- 
ferent species  endeavor  to  grasp  all  the  nourishment  for 
themselves,  unmindful  of  the  wants  of  others,  and  will  not 
even  permit  their  companions  to  perform  their  ablutions 
without  molestation,  although  they  may  themselves  have 
completed  what  they  required.  Often  the  mandarin  ducks 
have  been  observed  to  excite  the  drakes  to  assail  other 
males  or  females  of  the  same  species,  and  other  kinds  of 
birds  in  the  aviary,  against  whom  the  ladies,  from  some 
cause  or  other,  have  taken  a  dislike.  One  pair  of  these 
ducks  are  always  to  be  noticed  that  exercise  a  tyranny  over 
the  others,  not  allowing  them  to  wash,  eat  or  drink,  unless 
at  their  pleasure  and  approval. 

But,  of  all  tyrants,  none  can  be  compared  to  a  spoiled  dog, 
who  is  even  worse  than  a  spoiled  child.  Obedience  is  a 


384  Life  and  Immortality. 

stranger  to  his  nature.  Does  his  master  want  him  to  go  out 
for  a  walk,  and  he  prefers  to  stay  at  home,  he  stays  at  home, 
and  his  master  is  compelled  to  go  out  without  him.  But  if 
he  wants  to  go  for  a  walk,  he  makes  his  master  go  with  him, 
and  even  to  take  the  direction  he  prefers.  Duchie  is  the 
name  of  a  Skye  terrier  whose  history  is  given  in  a  work  on 
the  latter  breed  of  dogs  by  Dr.  J.  Brown.  So  completely 
had  this  little  animal  domineered  over  her  mistress,  that 
the  latter  could  not  even  choose  her  own  dinner,  but  was 
obliged  to  have  whatever  the  dog  preferred.  It  is  related 
that  for  a  half  of  a  winter's  night  she  was  kept  out  of  bed, 
because  Duchie  had  got  into  the  middle  and  refused  to 
move.  Certainly,  no  better  example  of  tyranny  could  be 
adduced. 

That  so-called  brutes  possess,  in  'common  with  ourselves, 
a  Conscience,  that  is,  a  sense  of  Moral  Responsibility,  and  a 
capability  of  distinguishing  between  right  and  wrong,  may 
seem  a  very  strange  assertion  to  be  made,  especially  to  those 
who  have  never  studied  the  ways  of  the  lower  animals.  Ani- 
mals which  are  placed  under  the  rule  of  man,  and  those,  like 
the  dog,  which  belong  to  his  household  and  are  made  his 
companions  more  particularly,  would  naturally  be  expected 
to  show  the  strongest  development  of  the  principle.  Con- 
science, in  their  dealings  with  man,  constitutes  their  religion, 
and  they  often  exercise  it  in  a  way  which  would  put  many  a 
human  being  to  the  blush.  This  feeling  it  is  that  induces 
the  dog  to  make  himself  the  guardian  of  his  master's  property, 
and  often  to  defend  that  property  at  the  risk  of  his  life. 
However  hungry  may  be  the  dog  that  is  placed  in  charge  of 
his  master's  dinner,  nothing  would,  as  a  rule,  tempt  him  to 
touch  a  morsel  of  the  food,  for  he  would  rather  die  of  starva- 
tion than  eat  the  food  which  belongs  to  his  master.  Often 
have  we  seen  field-laborers  at  work  at  one  end  of  a  large 
field,  while  their  coats  and  their  dinner  were  at  the  other 
end,  guarded  by  a  dog.  Not  the  least  uneasiness  did  they 
seem  to  manifest  about  the  safety  of  their  property,  for  well 


Mind  in  Animals.  385 

they  knew  that  the  faithful  animal  would  never  allow  any 
one  to  touch  either  the  clothes  or  the  provisions. 

There  could  hardly  be  a  stronger  instance  of  moral  re- 
sponsibility than  the  one  which  I  shall  now  relate,  which  is 
substantially  the  same  as  appears  in  Wood's  "  Man  and 
Beasts  Here  and  Hereafter."  Living  in  an  unprotected 
part  of  Scotland  was  a  poor  woman,  who  unexpectedly 
became  possessed  of  a  large  sum  of  money.  She  would 
have  taken  it  to  the  bank,  could  she  have  left  the  house,  but 
lack  of  bodily  health  prevented  her  from  so  doing.  At  last 
she  asked  the  advice  of  a  butcher  of  her  acquaintance,  telling 
him  that  she  was  afraid  to  live  in  the  house  with  so  much 
money  about  her.  "  Never  fear,"  said  the  butcher,  "  I  will 
leave  my  dog  with  you,  and  I'll  warrant  you  that  no  one  will 
dare  to  enter  your  house."  Towards  the  close  of  the  day 
the  dog  was  brought,  and  chained  up  close  to  the  place 
where  the  money  was  deposited.  That  very  night  a  robber 
made  his  way  into  the  house  and  was  proceeding  to  carry  off 
the  money,  when  he  was  seized  by  the  dog,  who  held  him  a 
prisoner  until  assistance  arrived.  The  thief  turned  out  to  be 
the  butcher  himself,  who  thought  he  had  made  sure  of  the 
money,  but  he  had  not  considered  that  his  dog  was  a  better 
moralist  than  himself,  for  who  would,  rather  than  betray  a 
defenceless  woman,  take  her  part  against  his  own  master. 
Kindly  pardoned  by  the  woman,  the  intending  robber  made 
his  way  home,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  for  the  future  he 
learned  a  lesson  from  his  own  dog  and  amended  the  evil  of 
his  ways. 

Not  only  does  the  dog  guard  the  property  which  is  in- 
trusted to  its  charge,  but  frequently  goes  a  little  further  and 
assumes  a  charge  on  its  own  account.  When  the  writer  was 
a  boy  living  in  the  country,  where  much  of  the  spring  and 
summer  of  the  year  was  spent  in  working  upon  a  farm,  he 
became  on  very  excellent  terms  with  a  little  bull-terrier, 
named  Tip,  that  belonged  to  a  certain  farmer  by  whom  he  was 
employed.  Upon  my  first  kitroduction  to  Tip,  I  felt  a  sort  of 


386  Life  and  Immortality. 

aversion  towards  him.  This  grew  out  of  the  mysterious 
actions  of  the  animal.  He  was  always  around  when  I  was 
busy  at  work  and  seemed  to  be  eying  me  in  a  suspicious 
sort  of  manner,  which  at  times  made  me  feel  very  unpleasant. 
After  the  lapse  of  a  few  days  I  discovered  that  I  was  not  so 
closely  watched  as  before,  and  that  I  was  treated  by  him  as 
he  was  accustomed  to  treat  the  other  members  of  the  family. 
Upon  inquiry  I  learned  that  he  always  acted  in  this  way 
toward  people  whom  he  did  not  know  intimately,  and  that 
after  a  time,  he  had  confidence  in  their  honesty  and  left  them 
alone.  While  in  many  instances  Tip  was  entirely  wrong  in 
his  surmises,  yet  cases  are  recalled  where  the  dog  was  right 
and  acted  in  a  manner  that  would  have  been  creditable  to  a 
human  being.  One  of  the  men  employed  upon  the  place, 
presuming  upon  the  friendship  of  the  dog,  sought  to  carry 
away  under  cover  of  darkness  something  belonging  to  the 
farmer,  but  he  was  immediately  beset  by  the  animal,  who  was 
an  eye-witness  of  the  proceeding,  and  compelled  to  desist 
from  the  intended  theft.  From  that  time  the  man  was  under 
the  closest  surveillance  by  the  dog.  Unable  to  effect  a  recon- 
ciliation, and  chafing  under  the  look  of  suspicion  with  which 
he  was  always  greeted,  the  man  soon  took  his  departure, 
much  to  the  delight  and  satisfaction  of  the  faithful  canine, 
and  was  never  afterwards  seen. 

Quite  a  common  form  of  conscience  among  the  lower 
animals  is  that  which  may  be  defined  as  a  recognition  of 
having  done  wrong,  and  acknowledgment  that  punishment  is 
deserved.  Animals  have  in  their  way  very  pronounced  ideas 
as  to  right  and  wrong.  When  they  have  committed  an  act 
which  they  know  will  offend  their  master,  they  display  as  keen 
a  conscience  as  any  human  being  self-convicted  of  sin  could 
exhibit.  In  many  instances,  the  offence  in  not  merely 
acknowledged,  but  the  creature  remains  miserable  until  for- 
giveness has  been  granted.  This  condition  of  mind,  if  mani- 
fested by  man,  is  called  Penitence,  and,  assuredly,  it  cannot 
be  knpwn  by  any  other  name  when  manifested  by  animals 


Mind  in  Animals,  387 

that  are  lower  down  in  the  scale  of  life.  My  little  dog 
Frisky,  about  whom  mention  has  already  been  made,  affords 
a  very  fine  illustration  of  this  phase  of  conscience.  When- 
ever he  did  wrong,  the  severest  punishment  that  could  be 
meted  out  to  him  was  to  ignore  his  presence  and  decline  his 
offered  paw.  For  hours  the  poor  fellow  would  moan  and 
cry,  and  even  refuse  food,  when  he  thought  I  was  angry 
with  him.  But  a  word  or  a  look  of  forgiveness  was  suffi- 
cient to  change  his  sadness  into  joy.  A  shaking  of  hands, 
so  to  speak,  would  then  follow,  and  master  and  dog  would 
be  good  friends  again.  No  love  could  be  more  intense  than 
his,  and  this  was  especially  shown  when  I  would  return  from 
a  short  absence,  when  the  little  fellow  would  almost  over- 
whelm me  by  his  affectionate  caresses. 

No  loftier  characteristic  adorns  humanity  than  Love. 
But  how  far  it  is  shared  by  the  lower  animals  it  is  now  our 
purpose  to  inquire.  That  there  are  many  phases  of  devel- 
opment cannot  be  doubted.  Sympathy,  or  that  capacity  of 
feeling  for  the  sufferings  of  another,  is  the  first  phase. 
Many,  and  perhaps  all,  living  creatures  possess  the  capacity 
of  sympathy.  In  the  majority  of  cases  it  is  not  restricted 
to  their  own  species,  but  is  extended  to  those  beings  which 
appear  to  have  very  little  in  common  with  each  other.  Ordi- 
narily, however,  it  is  exhibited  between  animals  of  the 
same  species,  and  it  is  often  seen  in  the  dog,  as,  for  example, 
where  a  dog,  having  been  cured  of  an  injury,  has  been 
observed  to  take  a  fellow-sufferer  to  his  benefactor.  Such 
sympathy,  it  need  hardly  be  remarked,  could  not  be  carried 
out  unless  the  animals  possessed  a  language  adequately 
defined  to  enable  them  to  transmit  ideas  from  one  to  the  other. 
Cats  are  often  kind  to  each  other,  sympathizing  under  diffi- 
culties, and  helping  their  friends  who  require  assistance.  A 
cat,  belonging  to  a  friend,  has  been  known,  when  oppressed 
with  the  cares  of  a  family,  to  employ  a  half-grown  kitten 
to  take  charge  of  the  young  while  she  went  for  a  ramble. 
Between  the  cat  and  the  dog  an  enmity  exists  that  is  hereditary, 


388  Life  and  Immortality. 

and  yet,  when  in  good  hands,  they  are  sure  to  become  very 
loving  friends,  and  even  to  show  considerable  sympathy 
towards  each  other.  Such  an  exhibition  of  good  feeling 
was  observed  by  the  writer  a  few  years  ago.  The  dog,  a 
large  black  Newfoundland,  had  contracted  a  warm  and 
devoted  friendship  for  a  gray  cat  that  was  an  inmate  of  the 
same  family.  When  the  cat  was  assailed  by  one  of  her 
kind,  or  by  a  strange  dog,  the  Newfoundland  would  pick  her 
up  in  his  mouth  and  carry  her  to  the  house  out  of  reach  of 
danger,  the  cat  maintaining  all  the  while  the  most  perfect 
serenity  of  composure,  knowing  that  she  was  in  the  care  of 
one  who  meant  her  no  ill.  When  the  same  cat  would 
become  sick,  the  Newfoundland  would  lie  down  by  her  side, 
caress  her  with  his  tongue,  and  show  in  every  way  possible 
that  he  was  sorry  that  she  was  sick. 

Many  examples  are  recorded  of  birds  feeling  sympathy 
with  the  lost  or  deserted  young  of  other  species,  and  that 
have  taken  upon  themselves  the  task  of  feeding  the  starving 
children.  A  pair  of  robins  had  constructed  a  nest  near  to 
the  writer's  home  in  the  country,  where  in  due  season  a 
family  of  four  children  was  raised.  Disaster  soon  came 
to  the  little  ones,  for  both  parents  were  slain  by  some  wicked 
boys  of  the  neighborhood.  There  dwelt  in  the  same  locality 
a  pair  of  bluebirds,  but  between  the  two  families  there  had 
never  been  apparent  the  least  interchange  of  friendship. 
Each  family  kept  to  itself,  and  attended  to  its  own  business. 
But  when  the  cry  of  the  young  robins  in  their  piteous 
demands  for  food  rent  the  air,  the  bluebirds  came  over  to  their 
home  to  discover  what  the  trouble  was.  They  were  not 
slow  to  perceive  the  sad  state  of  things.  Their  sympathies 
were  at  once  aroused,  and  their  energies  soon  bent  in  the 
direction  of  relieving  the  sufferings  of  the  little  orphaned 
robins.  For  the  next  two  weeks  they  had  all  they  could  do 
in  providing  meat  for  their  own  and  the  robins'  young. 

While  capable  of  showing  sympathy  for  near  as  well  as 
distant  kin,  the  lower  animals  have  also  the  capacity  to 


Mind  in  Animals. 


FOUR  ORPHANED  ROBINS. 
Kind-Hearted  Bluebirds  Assuming  the  Role  of  Parents. 


sympathize  with  human  beings  in  distress.  Cats  occasionally 
manifest  a  sympathy  for  suffering  humanity.  As  for  sym- 
pathy displayed  by  dogs,  there  is  no  need  to  cite  examples. 
No  human  being,  I  am  safe  in  saying,  was  ever  free  from 
troubles  of  some  kind,  and  I  am  equally  sure  that  no  one 
who  had  a  companionable  dog  felt  that  he  was  without  sym- 
pathy. Full  well  does  the  dog  know  when  his  master  is 
suffering  pain  or  sorrow,  and  his  nose  pushed  into  his  mas- 
ter's hand,  or  laid  affectionately  upon  his  knee,  is  a  sign  of 
sympathy  worth  possessing,  even  though  it  exists  only  in 
the  heart  of  a  dog.  From  that  moment  there  has  been 


390  Life  and  Immortality. 

established  a  bond  between  the  soul  of  the  master  and  the 
dog,  and  certainly  no  one  can  believe  that  the  bond  can  ever 
be  severed  by  the  death  of  the  material  body,  whether  of  the 
man  or  the  animal. 

That  Friendship,  which  is  another  branch  of  love,  exists 
among  animals,  is  a  well-known  fact.  But  it  is  among  the 
domesticated  animals  that  it  most  frequently  exhibits  itself. 
Horses,  as  every  one  knows,  which  have  been  accustomed  to 
draw  the  same  carriage  are  usually  sure  to  be  great  friends, 
and  if  one  be  exchanged  the  other  becomes  quite  miserable 
for  want  of  his  companion  and  seems  unable  to  throw  any 
spirit  into  his  work.  Dogs,  too,  are  very  apt  to  strike  up 
friendships  with  each  other.  Among  animals  it  is  not  con- 
fined to  one  species,  but  is  occasionally  found  to  exhibit 
itself  in  those  which  might  be  supposed  to  be  peculiarly 
incongruous  in  their  nature.  That  cows  and  sheep  live,  as 
a  rule,  on  good  terms  with  each  other  in  the  same  pasture 
is  a  familiar  experience,  though  sometimes  the  former  are  a 
little  prone  to  domineer  over  the  latter.  But  a  very  strong 
affection  sometimes  exists  between  animals  so  different,  and 
when  once  they  have  accustomed  themselves  to  each  other's 
society  neither  can  be  happy  without  the  other.  The  goat 
and  the  horse  frequently  become  friends,  and  a  peculiarly 
vicious  horse  has  been  known  to  allow  a  goat  to  take  undue 
liberties  with  him  without  the  least  manifestation  of  resent- 
ment. In  many  places  the  stable-cat  is  quite  an  institution. 
Its  usual  place  of  repose  is  upon  the  back  of  the  horse,  and 
the  latter  has  been  known  to  grow  very  uneasy  if  left  for  any 
length  of  time  without  the  companionship  of  his  little  friend. 
A  very  singular  instance  of  friendship  occurred  at  the  rural 
home  of  a  near  relative.  He  had  a  fine  mastiff  which  had 
taken  a  fancy  to  a  brood  of  young  chickens,  and  which  acted 
as  their  protector.  They  were  not  at  all  unwilling  to  accept 
him  in  this  capacity,  as  they  followed  him  about  just  as 
though  he  had  been  their  mother.  Quite  an  interesting 
sight  it.  was  to  watch  the  dog  and  the  chickens  as  they 


Mind  in  Animals.  39! 

would  take  their  siesta.  The  dog  used  to  lie  on  his  side, 
and  the  chickens  would  nestle  all  about  him,  though  one 
chicken  in  particular  would  invariably  scramble  upon  the 
dog's  head,  and  another  just  over  his  eye,  but  both  parties 
appeared  equally  satisfied  with  this  remarkable  arrangement. 

Already  have  we  referred  to  the  intense  yearning  which 
is  felt  by  many  of  the  lower  animals  for  human  society. 
This  yearning  is  indeed  but  the  aspiration  of  the  lower  spirit 
developed  by  contact  with  the  higher  in  domesticated  animals 
or  those  which  are  in  perpetual  contact  with  man.  This  feel- 
ing is  a  matter  of  no  great  surprise.  But  that  it  should  be 
exhibited  in  feral  animals  and  birds,  and  -even  in  insects,  is  a 
fact  well  worth  considering,  as  it  furnishes  a  clew  to  some  of 
the  many  problems  of  life  which  are  as  yet  unsolved.  That 
power  of  attraction  exercised  by  the  spirit  of  man  upon  that 
of  the  lower  creation  is  well  exemplified  in  many  wild  ani- 
mals, who  are  known  to  forsake  the  society  of  their  own  kind 
for  the  companionship  of  the  being  whom  they  feel  to  be 
higher  than  themselves. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  wariest  of  wild  animals  is  the  squirrel. 
He  is  horribly  afraid  of  human  beings,  and  if  a  man,  woman 
or  child  come  to  the  windward  of  him,  the  little  animal  is 
sure  to  scamper  off  at  his  fleetest  pace,  scuttle  up  the  nearest 
tree,  and  conceal  himself  behind  some  branch.  Yet,  wild  as 
he  may  be,  he  is  peculiarly  susceptible  to  the  influence  of  the 
human  spirit,  and  for  the  sake  of  human  society  will  utterly 
abandon  that  of  his  own  kind.  I  once  knew  a  pet  gray 
squirrel  by  the  name  of  Charley.  He  had  been  taken  from 
the  nest  when  very  young.  His  home  for  awhile  was  one 
of  those  whirl-about  cages.  Charley  did  not  like  his  cage, 
but  preferred  to  be  outside  in  the  unrestrained  enjoyment  of 
the  dictates  of  his  own  free  will.  So  it  was  difficult  to  keep 
him  behind  the  bars.  When  awake  he  loved  to  follow  his 
own  devices ;  but  when  tired  he  usually  slept  on  a  soft  cush- 
ion on  the  sofa,  or  found  his  way  into  some  bed-room  where 
he  would  nestle  under  a  pillow.  Nothing  was  more  to  his 


392  Life  and  Immortality. 

satisfaction  and  pleasure  than  a  share  of  the  bed  of  his  mis- 
tress, but  he  was  always  a  troublesome  nest-fellow.  Charley 
had,  as  must  be  obvious,  perfect  freedom.  He  was  allowed 
to  go  as  he  pleased.  There  was  no  coercion  in  his  case. 
Had  he  wished  to  escape,  there  was  nothing  to  prevent,  and 
nothing  bound  him  to  his  mistress  but  an  "  ever-lengthening 
chain  "  of  love  and  aspirations  which  none  but  a  human  being 
could  satisfy.  The  sparrow,  one  of  the  most  independent 
and  self-reliant  of  birds,  has  been  known  to  abandon  its  kind 
for  the  sake  of  human  beings.  Wood  cites  a  case  of  a  bird 
of  this  species  that  had  been  rescued  from  some  boys  who 
had  been  robbing  the  nest.  The  bird  was  brought  home, 
but  was  never  confined  in  a  cage,  but  was  permitted  to  fly 
freely  about  the  house.  As  there  was  a  cat  about  the  house, 
she  had  to  be  closely  watched  lest  she  might  do  the  bird 
some  injury.  On  Sundays,  when  the  family  went  to  church 
and  no  one  remained  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  cat,  the  sparrow 
was  turned  into  the  garden,  where  it  flew  about  until  the 
family's  return.  The  opening  of  the  dining-room  window  by 
its  mistress,  and  the  display  of  her  ungloved  hands,  was  the 
signal  for  its  entry.  But  if  the  mistress  stood  by  the  window 
with  her  gloves  on,  then  the  bird  showed  not  the  slightest 
disposition  to  enter. 

Such  is  the  intensity  of  the  love  which  the  lower  animals 
sometimes  entertain  toward  man  that  they  have  been  known 
to  grieve  themselves  to  death  on  account  of  his  loss.  A  dog 
by  the  name  of  Prince,  who  lived  in  the  family  where  the 
writer  spent  a  few  weeks  of  a  summer,  is  a  case  in  point. 
He  had  a  good  master,  and  one  to  whom  he  was  strongly 
attached.  The  year  before  the  master  sickened  and  died, 
and  Prince  felt  the  loss  so  keenly  that  he  refused  to  take  any 
food,  and  even  to  notice  the  surviving  members  of  the 
family.  He  was  pitiable  to  behold.  Life  had  lost  all  attrac- 
tions to  him,  and  he  showed  that  he  was  slowly  but  surely 
grieving  his  life  away.  Some  few  weeks  after  the  writer's 
departure,  the  poor  animal  breathed  his  last,  and  his  spirit,  it 


Mind  in  Animals.  393 

is  to  be  hoped,  went  to  join  that  of  his  master,  while  his 
ashes  became  mingled  with  the  dust  of  the  earth  as  his  mas- 
ter's had  been. 

What  a  wonderful  power  do  some  animals  have  of  return- 
ing to  their  beloved  master,  even  though  they  have  been 
conveyed  to  a  considerable  distance.  This  is  especially  true 
of  the  dog.  So  many  examples  of  such  feats  are  on  record 
that  I  refrain  from  mentioning  them,  but  will  give  but  a  single 
example.  Rover,  a  pet  greyhound  that  belonged  to  the 
writer,  had  become  such  an  annoyance  to  the  neighborhood 
where  he  lived,  that  the  master  determined  to  provide  him  a 
home  in  the  country  some  fifty  miles  away.  He  was  con- 
veyed to  his  destination  in  a  covered  wagon,  and  after  his 
new  master  had  reached  home,  the  poor  animal  was  placed 
in  a  stable  for  several  days,  where  he  was  daily  visited  and 
fed,  and  every  effort  possible  made  to  attach  him  to  the 
place  and  family.  On  the  fourth  day  of  his  arrival  he  was 
given  his  freedom.  With  a  long,  loud  wail  he  saluted  the 
neighborhood,  and  the  next  moment  was  off  at  full  speed 
across  the  country,  all  efforts  to  stop  him  being  unavailing. 
In  less  than  a  week  from  his  leaving  he  was  at  home  again, 
hungry  and  jaded  out  with  fatigue  and  travel,  but  not  too 
tired  nor  too  hungry  to  express  the  great  joy  he  felt  for  the 
old  master.  How  he  ever  accomplished  the  journey,  and  what 
vicissitudes  and  difficulties  he  encountered  on  the  way,  no 
one  will  ever  know.  After  this  I  had  not  the  heart  to  send 
him  away  again,  but  put  up  with  his  capers  and  tricks  as  best 
I  could,  and  when  complaints  were  preferred  against  him 
endeavored  to  excuse  them  as  a  parent  is  prone  to  do  in  the 
case  of  a  spoiled  and  wayward  child.  But  a  day  arrived 
when  Rover  to  me  was  no  more.  What  had  become  of  him  I 
was  never  able  to  discover,  but  I  always  blamed  a  near-by 
neighbor,  a  man  who  had  neither  love  nor  charity  in  his  soul, 
for  his  sudden  disappearance. 

That  cats  are  selfish  animals,  attaching  themselves  to 
localities  and  not  to  individuals,  I  do  not  believe.  This  idea 


394  Life  and  Immortality. 

has,  perhaps,  some  ground  of  truth,  for  the  nature  of  a  cat  is 
not  so  easy  to  understand  as  that  of  a  dog.  But  when  a  cat 
is  not  understood,  it  is  very  probable  that  she  cares  less  for 
the  inhabitants  of  the  house  than  for  the  house  itself.  Fre- 
quent instances  are  known  by  the  writer  where  cats  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  moving  about  with  their  owners,  and 
have  been  as  much  unconcerned  as  dogs  would  have  been. 
True  they  have,  like  women,  a  curious  and  prying  disposi- 
tion. I  have  seen  them  in  new  and  strange  quarters  go 
sniffing  about  every  room  of  a  house,  and  at  last  settle  down 
in  some  cozy,  comfortable  place,  well  satisfied  with  their 
tour  of  investigation.  Where  the  house  fell  short  of  their 
expectations,  if  they  have  been  cats  that  have  received  due 
consideration  from  their  mistresses  or  masters,  they  have 
tried  to  live  down  their  objections  and  to  learn  to  be  happy 
and  contented  with  their  lot.  Only  cats  that  have  not  been 
much  thought  of  are  inclined  to  show  their  disapproval  to 
changes  of  residence  which  they  deemed  unsuitable  by 
refusing  to  stay  with  their  masters.  Blackie,  a  favorite  cat 
of  ours,  never  seemed  to  care  where  her  home  was,  so  long 
as  her  friends  were  there  to  pet,  caress  and  pamper  her  with 
choice  dainties. 

All  animals,  so  far  as  can  be  learned,  have  not  only  a 
capacity  for  the  society  of  man,  but  an  absolute  yearning  for 
it.  This  feeling  may  be  in  abeyance,  from  not  having 
received  any  development  at  the  hands  of  man,  but  it  never- 
theless exists,  and  only  awaits  to  be  educed  by  some  one  capa- 
ble of  appreciating  the  character  of  the  animal.  Tigers,  as 
is  well  known,  are  not  generally  considered  the  friends  of 
mankind,  and  yet  the  Indian  fakirs  will  travel  over  the  coun- 
try with  tame  tigers,  which  they  simply  lead  about  with  a 
slight  string,  and  which  will  permit  small  children  to  caress 
them  with  their  hands  without  evincing  the  least  disposition 
to  hurt  them. 

When  we  survey  the  examples  of  love  displayed  by  ani- 
mals towards  human  beings,  which  we  have  just  detailed, 


Mind  in  Animals.  395 

and  recall  the  hundreds  that  we  know  and  have  read  about, 
is  it  possible  to  believe  that  such  love  can  perish  ?  We  appre- 
hend not.  Unselfish  love  as  this,  which  survives  ingrati- 
tude and  ill-treatment,  belongs  to  the  spirit  and  not  to  the 
body,  and  all  beings  capable  of  feeling  such  love  must  pos- 
sess immortal  spirits.  All  may  not  have  an  opportunity  of 
manifesting  it,  but  all  possess  the  capacity  and  would,  were 
the  conditions  favorable,  manifest  it  openly. 

Few  animals,  as  may  easily  be  imagined,  manifest  Con- 
jugal Love.  Most  species  have  no  particular  mates,  but 
merely  meet  by  chance,  and  seemingly  never  trouble  them- 
selves about  each  other  again.  No  real  conjugal  love,  there- 
fore, can  exist,  and  it  is  rather  curious  that  in  such  animals 
a  durable  friendship  is  frequently  formed  between  two  indi- 
viduals of  the  same  sex.  But  when  we  come  to  polygamous 
animals,  such  as  the  stag  among  mammals  and  the  domestic 
poultry  among  birds,  we  meet  with  a  decided  advance  towards 
conjugal  love,  although  as  in  the  case  of  polygamous  man, 
that  love  must  necessarily  be  of  an  inferior  character.  There 
is  seen,  at  all  events,  a  sense  of  appropriation  on  either  side. 
Take  the  example  of  the  barn-yard  fowl,  as  has  already  been 
mentioned  in  that  part  of  the  chapter  which  deals  with 
jealousy,  where  it  is  shown  that  the  proprietor  of  the  harem 
resents  any  attempt  on  the  part  of  another  male  to  infringe 
on  his  privileges. 

This  brings  us  to  the  consideration  of  birds,  where  the 
many  are  mated  for  the  nesting-season,  but  subsequently  do 
not  seem  to  care  more  for  each  other  than  they  do  for  their 
broods  of  children.  If  one  of  the  pair  be  killed  at  the  nest- 
ing-time the  survivor,  after  a  brief  lamentation,  consoles  itself 
in  a  few  hours  or  days  with  another  partner,  for  there  really 
appears  to  be  a  supply  of  spare  partners  of  both  sexes  always 
at  hand.  And  now  we  come  to  those  creatures  which  are 
mated  for  life,  and  often  we  find  among  them  a  conjugal  love 
as  strong  and  as  sincere  as  among  mongamous  mankind. 
Prominent  among  them  are  the  eagle,  the  raven  and  the 


39^ 


Life  and  Immortality. 


MATED  FOR  LIFE. 
Conjugal  Fidelity  Shown  by  a  Pair  of  Doves. 


dove.  And  while  we  praise  the  turtle-dove  for  its  conjugal 
fidelity,  and  credit  it  with  the  possession  of  all  that  is  sweet, 
and  good,  and  gentle,  how  remarkable  is  it  that  we  forget  to 
accredit  with  the  same  virtue  the  eagle  and  the  raven,  that 
are  the  types  of  all  that  is  violent,  and  dark,  and  cunning. 
There  are  many  examples  in  existence  of  the  conjugal  love 
among  such  birds,  but  they  are  so  well  known  that  reference 
to  them  is  unnecessary.  The  case  of  the  mandarin  duck, 
already  narrated,  affords  a  strong  instance  of  conjugal  love 
wherein  the  lady  was  faithful  and  the  husband  avenged  him- 
self on  the  destruction  of  his  domestic  peace. 

So  numerous  as  are  the  instances  of  love  shown  by  parents 
among  the  lower  animals  towards  their  offspring,  yet  it  is  a  very 
singular  fact  that  few,  if  any,  trustworthy  accounts  of  Filial 
Love,  or  the  love  of  children  toward  their  parents,  are  to  be 


Mind  in  Animals.  397 

found.  But  we  must  look  to  man  if  we  would  understand 
the  lower  animals.  Even  human  nature  must  attain  a  high 
state  of  development  before  filial  love  can  find  any  place  in 
the  affections.  In  savages  it  barely  exists  at  all,  and  certainly 
does  not  survive  into  mature  years.  It  is  the  glory  of  the 
North  American  Indian  boy,  at  as  early  an  age  as  possible, 
to  despise  his  mother  and  defy  his  father.  And  the  women 
are  just  as  bad  as  the  men.  Rejoicing  in  the  pride  of  youth 
and  strength,  they  utterly  despise  the  elder  and  feeble 
women,  even  though  they  be  their  own  mothers,  and  will 
tear  from  their  hands  the  food  they  are  about  to  eat,  on  the 
plea  that  old  women  are  of  no  use,  and  that  the  food  would 
be  much  better  employed  in  giving  nourishment  to  the 
young  and  strong.  The  Fijians  have  not  the  least  scruple 
in  burying  a  father  alive  when  he  becomes  infirm,  and  assist 
in  strangling  a  mother  that  she  may  keep  him  company  in 
the  land  of  spirits.  Both  the  Bosjesmen  of  South  Africa  and 
the  Australian  seem  to  have  not  the  least  idea  that  any  duty 
is  owing  to  a  parent  from  a  child,  nor  have  they  much 
notion  of  duty  from  a  parent  toward  the  child.  If  the  father 
be  angry  with  any  one  for  any  reason,  he  has  a  way  of 
relieving  his  feelings  by  driving  his  spear  through  the  body 
of  his  wife  or  child,  whichever  one  of  the  two  happens  to  be 
the  nearer.  Even  the  mother  treats  her  child  with  less  con- 
sideration than  a  cow  does  her  calf,  and  leaves  the  little 
creature  to  shift  for  itself  at  an  age  when  the  children  of 
civilized  parents  are  hardly  thought  fit  to  be  left  alone  for  a 
few  minutes.  This  being  the  case  with  parental  love,  it  may 
be  readily  imagined  that  filial  affection  can  have  not  the 
slightest  chance  for  development,  and  it  is  very  much  to  be 
questioned  whether  in  the  savage  it  can  really  be  said  to 
exist  at  all  in  the  sense  understood  by  enlightened  peoples. 
Therefore,  as  in  the  lower  human  races,  we  find  that  filial 
love  either  is  very  trifling,  or  is  absolutely  non-existent,  need 
we  wonder  that  in  the  lower  animals  such  few,  if  any,  indica- 
tions of  its  presence  should  be  found  ? 


398  Life  and  Immortality. 

Now,  as  to  the  subject  of  Parental  Love,  and  the  various 
ways  in  which  it  manifests  itself.  There  are  many  writers 
who  claim  that  parental  love  in  the  lower  animals  is  not 
identical  with  that  of  man.  They  affirm  that  it  is  only  a 
blind  instinct,  and,  in  order  to  mark  more  strongly  the  dis- 
tinction between  man  and  beast,  call  the  parental  love  of  the 
latter  by  the  name  of  storge.  Speaking  for  myself,  I  must 
declare  that  I  am  unable  to  perceive  any  distinction  between 
the  two,  save  that  in  civilized  man  the  parental  love  is  better 
regulated  than  among  the  lower  animals.  But,  as  has  been 
seen,  it  is  not  regulated  at  all  among  the  uncivilized  races, 
and,  in  truth,  many  of  the  beasts  are  far  better  parents  than 
most  savages.  Nor  can  I  understand  why  the  word  storge 
should  be  applied  to  parental  love  among  the  lower  animals 
and  not  to  the  same  feeling  in  man.  Among  Greek  writers 
the  word,  together  with  the  verb  from  which  it  is  derived, 
is  applied  to  the  love  between  human  parents  and  children. 
It  is  so  applied  by  Plato,  and  in  the  same  sense  by  Sophocles 
and  others.  One  argument  adduced  by  those  who  deny  the 
identity  of  the  feeling  in  both  cases  is  that  parental  love 
endures  throughout  life  in  man,  while  it  expires  with  the 
adolescence  of  the  young  in  the  lower  animals.  This  is 
doubtless  true,  as  a  rule,  with  civilized  man,  but  in  the  case 
of  the  savage,  as  has  previously  been  shown,  it  does  not  last 
longer  than  that  of  a  bird,  a  cat  or  a  dog,  taking  into  con- 
sideration the  relative  duration  of  life.  And  the  reason  is 
identical  in  both  cases.  Were  this  love  to  exist  through  life 
in  the  savage,  the  beast  or  the  bird,  the  race  would  become 
extinct,  for  neither  race  is  able  to  support  its  children  longer 
than  their  time  of  helplessness.  The  beast  and  the  bird  can- 
not, and  the  savage  will  not,  provide  for  the  future.  It  is 
therefore  evident  that  if  the  young  had  to  depend  upon  their 
parents  for  subsistence,  they  would  soon  perish  from  lack  of 
food.  Exceptions  there  are  to  this  general  rule,  and  always, 
as  far  as  can  be  determined,  in  the  case  of  domesticated 
animals  whose  means  of  subsistence  are  already  insured. 


Mind  in  Animals.  399 

Several  of  such  cases  have  come  to  my  notice.  I  shall 
instance  but  one.  A  friend  of  mine  has  two  terriers,  a 
mother  and  a  daughter.  The  strongest  bond  of  love  and 
fellowship  unites  them.  They  always  sit  close  together,  and 
the  mother  playfully  pinches  her  daughter  all  over.  Should 
they  by  chance  become  separated,  even  for  a  very  short 
time,  the  daughter  comes  up  wagging  her  tail,  and  then  licks 
her  mother's  nose  and  mouth.  When  hunting  together, 
they  always  act  in  concert,  each  one  taking  a  hole,  and  one 
keeping  watch  while  the  other  scrapes  away  the  earth.  The 
meaning  of  each  other's  whine  or  bark  is  perfectly  under- 
stood, and  no  two  persons  could  understand  their  own  lan- 
guage better  than  do  these  dogs  theirs,  nor  be  more  com- 
prehensible to  each  other. 

Self-abnegation  is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
characteristics  which  parental  love  can  give.  This  is  par- 
ticularly shown  when  the  young  are  in  danger.  A  human 
mother  in  charge  of  her  child  will  defy  a  danger  before 
which  she  would  shrink  if  alone,  and  in  its  defence  would 
dare  deeds  of  which  most  strong  men  would  be  incapable, 
for  during  the  time  her  selfhood  is  extinguished,  and  her 
being  is  sunk  into  that  of  her  child.  Such  abnegation 
becomes  a  true  mother,  for  if  she  would  not  consent  to  do 
and  dare  for  the  sake  of  her  offspring,  she  would  degrade 
herself  below  the  beasts  and  the  birds,  who  hesitate  not  in 
performing  that  duty  to  their  children,  though  savants  do 
declare  that  they  possess  only  storge,  whatever  they  may 
mean  by  it,  and  not  parental  love. 

Everyone  who  has  paid  even  a  passing  attention  to  the 
habits  of  birds  must  have  noticed  the  vigilance  a  pair  of  cat- 
birds exercise  over  their  nest  when  containing  young  birds. 
Neither  parent,  when  the  other  is  absent,  relaxes  this  vig- 
ilance, for  they  consider  no  labor,  no  care,  no  watchfulness, 
too  great  or  too  exacting  where  their  offspring  are  to  be 
benefited.  Let  an  enemy  approach,  even  if  it  be  man 
himself,  and  they  are  beside  themselves  with  anger  and 


4QO 


Life  and  Immortality. 


EVIDENCE  OF  CONJUGAL  AFFECTION. 
Male  Humming-Bird  Feeding  His  Partner,  and  Ready  to  Act  in  Her  Defence. 


resentment,  flying  into  the  very  face  of  the  audacious 
intruder,  as  though  they  would  pluck  his  eyes  out  as  a  just 
punishment  for  his  presumption  and  temerity.  I  have  seen 
the  nest  of  a  catbird  attacked  by  a  black  snake,  and  crushed 
within  the  folds  of  the  hideous  serpent  the  father-bird,  but 
the  disaster  did  not  cause  the  mother-bird  to  desist  from  the 
attack,  for,  utterly  oblivious  of  all  else  but  her  offspring 
and  the  snake,  she  fought  on  until  the  latter  was  forced  to 
glide  away  into  the  bushes  to  escape  her  infuriated  assaults. 
But  no  species  of  bird  is  more  courageous  in  defence  of 
its  nest  than  the  little  ruby-throated  humming-bird.  It  is 
really  dangerous  to  visit  the  nest  when  with  eggs  or  young. 
I  would  as  soon  attempt  to  assail  the  dome-shaped  nest  of 
our  common  hornet  as  that  of  this  humming-bird.  It  is  as 


Mind  in  Animals.  401 

much  as  one  can  do  to  protect  his  eyes  from  the  lightning- 
like  attacks  of  these  birds,  so  swiftly  and  so  unerringly  do 
they  direct  their  blows  at  these  points. 

So  great  is  the  affection  and  solicitude  of  the  red-eyed 
vireo  for  her  young,  that  she  will  scarcely  leave  the  nest 
when  the  hand  is  stretched  out  a  few  inches  over  the  mouth 
of  the  structure.  And  then  when  she  does  leave,  it  is  not 
in  a  hurried,  precipitate  manner,  but  with  a  quiet,  deliberate 
movement  that  excites  one's  admiration  and  makes  one 
vow  never  to  abuse  such  simple,  childlike  confidence.  I 
have  even  placed  my  hand  upon  the  sitting-bird  without 
disturbing  the  current  of  her  brooding  thoughts,  or  the 
peaceful  serenity  of  her  soul.  A  rough  dash  at  the  nest 
tends  to  frighten  her  away  instanter,  but  when  the  hand  is 
reached  out  to  it  slowly  and  silently  the  bird  seems  to  act  as 
though  it  had  nothing  to  fear,  and  remains  calm  and  self- 
possessed. 

Who  is  not  familiar  with  the  proverbial  skill  of  the  Caro- 
lina dove  in  feigning  lameness  when  her  nest  is  being 
approached  ?  Without  a  cry,  and  with  scarcely  a  rustle  of  her 
feathers,  she  slips  out  of  her  nest  upon  the  ground,  and  by  a 
series  of  manoeuvres,  as  if  desperately  wounded,  grovels 
along  on  her  belly  in  the  dust  till  she  has  led  her  enemy  a 
long  journey  from  the  site  of  the  nest,  when  she  will  take 
to  wing  and  and  fly  away  into  a  coppice  or  a  clump  of  brush- 
wood. 

That  birds  should  manifest  a  love  for  the  young  which 
they  hatch  has  always  seemed  a  strange  problem  to  me.  I 
can  see  how  that,  in  the  case  of  a  mammal,  the  mother 
should  feel  a  love  for  the  creature  who  is  absolutely  a  part 
of  herself — whose  very  life-blood  is  drawn  from  her  veins. 
But  this  is  not  necessarily  the  case  with  birds.  If,  as  often 
happens  with  poultry,  the  eggs  of  several  hens  are  placed 
under  one  bird  for  hatching,  the  hen  that  hatches  them 
knows  no  difference  between  the  chickens  that  come  from 
her  own  eggs  and  those  which  proceed  from  eggs  laid  by 


402  Life  and  Immortality. 

others.  Even  where  the  eggs  belong  to  birds  of  different 
species,  as  to  the  common  Muscovy-duck  for  example,  the 
hen  displays  as  much  affection  for  the  young  ducklings, 
despite  the  disparity  of  instinct  and  habit,  as  she  does  had 
they  proceeded  from  her  own  eggs.  May  it  not  be  that 
parental  love  has  different  channels  of  transmission,  and  that 
in  such  a  case  as  this  the  emanation  from  the  sitting-hen 
may  be  the  vehicle  of  parental  love  toward  the  young  which 
are  to  be  hatched  ?  Certain  it  is  that  a  sitting-hen,  as  many 
of  us  have  observed,  is  altogether  a  changed  being,  both  in 
attitude  and  expression.  She  is  entirely  absorbed  in  the 
eggs  when  she  is  incubating,  and,  though  she  may  not  have 
the  intellect  to  distinguish  a  mere  lump  of  chalk  from  one 
of  her  own  eggs,  yet  love  is  altogether  independent  of  intel- 
lect, and  may  exist  in  all  its  vigor,  and  yet  may  be  wasted 
on  an  unworthy  object. 

Fishes,  as  is  generally  known,  are  not  particularly  emo- 
tional beings,  and  are  not  likely  to  entertain  a  lasting  love 
for  anything.  Indeed,  in  some  instances,  parental  love  would 
be  absolutely  useless,  as  in  the  case  of  the  cod-fish,  which 
could  be  hardly  expected  to  entertain  a  special  love  for  each  of 
the  countless  thousands  of  young  it  produces  every  yean  The 
life  of  the  mother  would  be  an  unenviable  one,  if  he/  lot 
were  to  look  after  her  young  as  soon  as  they  are  hatched, 
especially  when  the  varied  foes  that  beset  her  eggs  as  soon 
as  they  are  produced,  are  considered.  Just  as  there  are 
fishes  that  possess  conjugal  love,  so  there  are  fishes  that 
possess  parental  love,  and  prominent  among  these  are  the 
sticklebacks.  But  in  the  case  of  these  fishes  the  most  curi- 
ous part  is  that  parental  love  is  shown  by  the  father,  and  not 
by  the  mother,  the  latter  having  nothing  to  do  but  to  lay  the 
eggs,  and  leaving  to  the  former  the  exclusive  labor  of  pro- 
viding for  the  young. 

Enough  of  instances  of  true  parental  love  among  the 
lower  animals  could  be  given  to  fill  this  entire  book,  but 
a  sufficient  number  have  been  adduced  to  show  that  the 


Copyright  1900  by  A.  R.  DUGMORE. 

WOOD-THRUSH   SETTING. 


Mind  in  Animals.  403 

feeling  is  the  same  in  man  as  in  them,  although,  of  course, 
the  mode  of  manifesting  it  is  different.  We  have  shown  the 
fallacy  of  the  theory  that  parental  love  is  life-enduring  in 
man  and  very  brief  among  the  animals,  and  have  seen  that, 
in  proportion  to  the  duration  of  life,  it  is  quite  as  brief 
among  the  savages  as  among  the  animals.  And,  again,  we 
have  seen  where  it  has  been  lost  and  then  restored,  and  also 
where  it  was  never  lost ;  where  in  animals,  as  in  man,  it  has 
caused  complete  abnegation  of  self,  the  parents  living  for 
their  children,  and  not  for  themselves,  and  where  it  has  given 
strength  to  the  weak  and  courage  to  the  timid.  Even  the 
very  fishes  have  been  shown  to  be  amenable  to  the  same 
influences  as  man,  and  could  we  have  carried  our  illustrations 
still  lower  down  the  scale  we  would  have  found  the  same 
influences  existing  among  much  humbler  forms  of  animal 
existences.  In  conclusion,  there  is  no  resisting  the  fact  that 
parental  love,  one  of  the  highest  and  holiest  feelings  of 
which  a  loving  and  immortal  soul  can  be  capable,  is  shared 
equally  by  man  and  beast,  according  to  their  respective 
capacities. 


IiIFE  PROGRESSIVE 


N'  O  one  can  doubt  that  the  earth's  crust,  so  far  as  it  has 
been  deciphered  by  man,  presents  us  with  a  record, 
imperfect  though  it  be,  of  the  past.  Whether,  however,  the 
known  and  admitted  imperfections  of  its  records,  geological 
and  palaeontological,  are  sufficiently  trustworthy  to  account 
satisfactorily  for  the  lack  of  direct  evidence  recognizable  in 
some  modern  hypotheses,  may  be  a  matter  of  individual 
opinion,  but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  they  are  sufficiently 
extensive  to  throw  the  balance  of  evidence  decisively  in 
favor  of  some  theory  of  continuity,  as  opposed  to  any 
theory  of  intermittent  and  occasional  action,  which  some 
writers  have  strenuously  and  intelligently  advocated.  No 
marks  of  mighty  and  general  convulsions  of  nature  exist, 
as  the  seeming  breaks  which  divide  the  grand  series  of 
stratified  rocks  into  numerous  isolated  formations  would 
indicate.  They  are  simply  indications  of  the  imperfection 
of  our  knowledge.  Science  will  never,  in  all  probability, 
point  to  a  complete  series  of  deposits,  or  to  a  complete 
succession  of  life,  which  shall  link  one  geological  period  to 
another.  But  that  such  deposits  and  such  an  unbroken 
succession  must  have  existed  at  one  time  we  may  well  feel 
sure,  and  stand  ready  to  believe  that  nowhere  in  the  long 
series  of  fossiliferous  rocks  has  there  been  a  total  break,  but 
that  there  has  inevitably  been  a  complete  continuity  of  life, 
as  well  as  a  more  or  less  complete  continuity  of  sedimenta- 
tion from  the  Laurentian  period  to  the  present  day.  One 
generation,  speaking  figuratively,  hands  on  the  lamp  of  life 
to  the  next,  and  each  system  of  rocks  is  the  direct  offspring 


Life  Progressive.  405 

of  its  predecessor  in  time.  Though  it  is  apparent  that  there 
has  not  been  continuity  in  any  given  area,  still  the  geological 
chain  could  not  have  been  snapped  at  one  point  and  taken 
up  again  at  a  totally  different  one.  Hence  we  arrive  at  the 
conviction  that  in  geology,  as  in  other  sciences,  continuity  is 
the  fundamental  law,  and  that  the  lines  of  demarcation 
between  the  great  formations  are  but  gaps  in  our  own 
knowledge. 

Through  the  study  of  fossils,  as  is  well  known,  geologists 
have  been  led  to  the  all-important  generalization  that  the 
vast  series  of  fossiliferous  or  sedimentary  rocks  may  be 
separated  into  a  number  of  definite  groups  or  formations, 
each  of  which  being  characterized  by  its  own  organic 
remains,  but  not  properly  and  strictly,  it  must  be  understood, 
by  the  occurrence  therein  of  any  one  particular  fossil. 
However,  a  formation  may  contain  some  particular  fossil  or 
fossils  not  occurring  outside  of  that  formation,  thus  enabling 
an  observer  to  identify  a  given  group  with  tolerable  certainty; 
or,  as  very  often  happens,  some  particular  stratum  or  sub- 
group of  a  series,  may  contain  peculiar  fossils,  whereby  its 
existence  may  be  determined  with  considerable  readiness  in 
divers  localities.  Each  great  formation,  let  it  be  said,  is 
properly  characterized  by  the  association  of  certain  fossils, 
the  predominance  of  certain  families  or  orders,  or  by  an 
assemblage  of  fossil  remains  that  represent  the  life  of  the 
period  during  which  the  formation  was  deposited. 

Fossils,  then,  not  only  enable  us  to  determine  the  age  of 
the  deposits  in  which  they  are  found,  but  they  also  further 
enable  us  to  arrive  at  some  very  important  conclusions 
respecting  the  manner  in  which  the  fossiliferous  bed  was 
deposited,  and,  consequently,  to  the  condition  of  the  par- 
ticular region  occupied  by  the  bed  at  the  period  of  its 
formation.  Beds  that  contain  the  remains  of  animals,  such 
as  now  inhabit  rivers,  we  know  to  be  fluviatile  in  their  origin, 
and  that  at  one  time  they  must  have  either  constituted 
actual  river-beds,  or  been  deposited  by  the  overflowing  of 


406  Life  and  Immortality. 

ancient  streams.  But  if  the  beds  contain  the  remains  of 
mollusks,  minute  crustaceans  or  fish,  such  as  are  found 
to-day  in  lakes,  then  we  conclude  that  they  are  lacustrine, 
and  were  deposited  beneath  the  waters  of  former  lakes. 
And,  lastly,  if  the  remains  of  animals  such  as  now  people 
the  oceans  are  to  be  met  with  in  the  beds,  then  we  know 
that  they  are  marine  in  origin,  and  that  they  are  fragments 
of  an  old  sea-bottom.  On  the  whole,  the  conditions  under 
which  a  bed  was  deposited,  whether  in  a  shallow  sea,  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  a  coast-line,  or  in  deep  water,  can 
often  be  determined  with  considerable  accuracy  from  the 
nature  of  the  relics  of  the  organisms  which  they  contain. 
But  we  have  thus  far  been  dealing  with  the  remains  of 
aquatic  animals.  When,  however,  we  consider  the  remains  of 
aerial  and  terrestrial  animals,  or  of  plants,  the  determination 
of  the  conditions  of  deposition  is  not  made  out  with  such 
an  absolute  certainty.  Remains  of  land-animals  would,  of 
course,  occur  in  sub-aerial  deposits,  that  is,  in  beds,  like 
blown  sand,  accumulated  upon  the  land,  but  the  most  of 
such  remains  of  such  animals  are  found  in  deposits  which 
have  been  laid  down  in  water,  and  hence  their  present 
position  is  due  to  the  fact  that  their  former  owners  were 
either  drowned  in  rivers  or  lakes,  or  borne  out  to  sea  by 
water-channels.  Animals  possessed  of  the  power  of  flight 
might  also  similarly  find  their  way  into  aqueous  deposits, 
but,  when  it  is  remembered  that  many  birds  and  mammals 
habitually  spent  a  great  part  of  their  time  in  the  water,  it 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  they  should  present  themselves 
as  fossils  in  sedimentary  rocks.  Even  plants,  such  as  have 
undoubtedly  grown  upon  land,  do  not  prove  that  the  bed 
in  which  they  are  found  was  formed  on  land,  for  many  of 
their  remains  are  extraneous  to  the  bed  in  which  they  now 
occur,  having  reached  their  present  site  by  falling  into  lakes 
or  rivers,  or  by  being  carried  out  to  sea  by  floods  or  gales  of 
winds.  Still,  there  are  many  cases  which  obviously  show 
that  plants  have  grown  on  the  very  spot  where  we  now  find 


Life  Progressive.  407 

them.  The  great  coal-fields  of  the  Carboniferous  Age,  it  is 
now  generally  conceded,  are  the  result  of  the  growth  in  situ 
of  the  plants  which  compose  coal,  as  well  as  that  they 
grew  on  vast  marshy  or  partially  submerged  tracts  of  level 
alluvial  land. 

While  fossils  enable  us  in  many  cases  to  arrive  at  impor- 
tant conclusions  as  to  the  climate  of  the  period  in  which  they 
lived,  yet  it  is  only  in  the  case  of  marine  fossils,  which  con- 
stitute the  majority  of  such  remains,  that  we  acquire  such 
knowledge,  but  it  is  mostly  the  temperature  of  the  sea  which 
can  thus  be  determined.  However,  let  it  be  remembered 
that,  owing  to  the  existence  of  heated  currents,  the  marine 
climate  of  a  designated  area  does  not  necessarily  imply  a 
correspondingly  warm  climate  in  the  adjoining  land,  for 
land-climates  can  only  be  determined  by  the  relics  of  land- 
animals  or  land-plants,  and  these  are  comparatively  rare  as 
fossils.  But  all  conclusions  on  this  head  are  really  based 
upon  the  existing  distribution  of  vegetable  and  animal  life 
upon  the  globe,  and  are  therefore  liable  to  be  vitiated  by  the 
considerations  that  no  certainty  exists  that  the  habits  and 
requirements  of  an  extinct  animal  were  exactly  similar  to 
those  of  its  nearest  living  relative ;  that  far  back  in  time 
groups  of  organisms,  so  unlike  anything  we  know  at  the 
present  day,  are  met  with,  which  render  all  conjectures  of 
climate  based  upon  their  supposed  habits  more  or  less  uncer- 
tain .and  unsafe ;  that  in  the  case  of  marine  animals  we  are  as 
yet  very  far  from  knowing  the  precise  limits  of  distribution 
of  many  species  within  our  present  seas  as  to  render  con- 
clusions drawn  from  living  forms  in  relation  to  extinct 
species  unsatisfactory  and,  probably,  incorrect ;  and,  finally, 
that  the  distribution  of  animals  to-day,  is  certainly  depend- 
ent on  other  conditions  than  climate  alone,  the  causes  limit- 
ing the  range  of  given  animals  being  assuredly  such  as 
belong  to  the  existing  order  of  things,  and  are  different  from 
what  they  were  in  former  times,  not  necessarily  because  the 
climate  has  changed,  but  because  of  the  alteration  of  other 


408  Life  and  Immortality. 

conditions  that  are  essential  to  the  life  of  the  species  or  con- 
ducive to  its  extension.  But  notwithstanding  the  difficulties 
in  the  way,  we  are  able  in  many  cases  to  deduce  completely 
trustworthy  conclusions  concerning  the  climate  of  a  given 
geological  period  by  an  examination  of  its  fossil  remains. 
In  Eocene  times,  or  at  the  beginning  of  the  Tertiary  Period, 
the  climate  of  what  is  now  Western  Europe  was  of  a  tropical 
or  sub-tropical  character,  the  Eocene  beds  being  found  to 
contain  the  remains  of  cowries  and  volutes,  such  shells  as 
now  inhabit  tropical  seas,  together  with  the  fruits  of  palms 
and  remains  of  other  tropical  plants.  And  further,  it  has 
been  shown  that  in  Miocene  times,  or  about  the  middle  of 
the  same  epoch,  the  central  parts  of  Europe  were  peopled 
with  a  luxuriant  flora  resembling  that  of  the  warmer  parts 
of  the  United  States,  and  that  Greenland,  now  buried  for  the 
most  part  beneath  a  vast  ice-shroud,  was  warm  enough  to 
support  a  large  number  of  trees,  shrubs  and  other  plants 
that  are  at  present  denizens  of  the  temperate  regions  of  the 
globe. 

And  lastly,  from  the  study  of  fossils,  geologists  first  learned 
to  comprehend  a  fact,  that  is,  that  the  crust  of  the  earth  is 
liable  to  local  elevations  and  subsidences,  which  may  be 
regarded  as  of  cardinal  importance  in  all  modern  geological 
theories  and  speculations.  Long  after  the  remains  of  shells 
and  those  of  other  marine  animals  were  first  observed  in  the 
solid  rocks  constituting  the  dry  land,  and  at  great  elevations 
above  the  sea-level,  attempts  were  made  to  explain  this 
unintelligible  phenomenon  upon  the  hypothesis  that  these 
remains  or  fossils  were  mere  lusus  natures,  due  to  some 
"  plastic  virtue  latent  in  the  earth."  But  the  common-sense 
of  science  soon  rejected  this  idea,  and  it  was  universally 
agreed  that  these  bodies  were  really  the  relics  of  animals 
that  once  lived  in  the  sea.  When  once  this  was  admitted, 
further  steps  in  the  right  way  of  thinking  became  compara- 
tively easy,  and  at  the  present  day  no  geological  doctrine 
stands  -on  a  surer  foundation  than  that  which  teaches  that 


Life  Progressive.  409 

our  existing  continents  and  islands,  fixed  and  immovable 
as  they  appear,  have  been  repeatedly  sunk  beneath  the 
ocean  and  just  as  repeatedly  been  lifted  above  its  waters. 

Not  only  have  fossils  an  important  bearing  upon  geology 
and  physiography  as  has  been  seen,  but  they  have  relations, 
most  complicated  and  weighty  in  character,  with  the  science 
of  biology,  or  the  study  of  living  beings.  No  adequate 
understanding  of  zoology  and  botany  is  possible  without 
some  acquaintance  with  the  types  of  plants  and  animals  that 
have  passed  away,  for  there  are  numerous  speculative  prob- 
lems in  the  domain  of  vital  science,  which,  if  soluble  at  all, 
can  only  hope  to  find  their  key  in  researches  carried  out  on 
extinct  organisms. 

No  attempt  will  be  made  by  the  writer  to  discuss  fully  the 
biological  relations  of  fossils.  Such  an  undertaking  would 
afford  matter  for  a  separate  volume.  All  that  I  purpose  in 
this  chapter  is  to  indicate  very  cursorily  the  principal  points 
of  palaeontological  teaching,  so  that  my  readers  can  acquire 
some  idea  of  the  progression  from  lower  to  higher  types 
that  life  has  made  throughout  the  geological  ages.  Prelimi- 
nary to  the  purpose  held  in  view,  let  it  be  understood  that 
the  vast  majority  of  fossil  animals  and  plants  are  extinct,  or, 
differently  and  perhaps  more  intelligently  expressed,  belong 
to  species  that  no  longer  exist.  So  far  from  there  being  any 
truth  in  the  old  idea  that  there  have  been  periodic  destruc- 
tions of  all  the  living  beings  in  existence  upon  the  earth, 
followed  by  a  corresponding  number  of  new  creations  of 
plants  and  animals,  the  actual  facts  indicate  that  the  extinction 
of  old  and  introduction  of  new  forms  have  been  processes 
that  have  been  continually  going  on  throughout  the  whole 
of  geologic  time.  Every  species  seems  to  come  into  exist- 
ence at  a  definite  point  of  time,  and  to  disappear  finally  at 
another  definite  period,  though  there  are  few,  if  any,  instances, 
in  which  the  times  of  entrance  and  exit  could  be  fixed  with 
any  degree  of  certainty  or  precision.  Marked  differences  in 
the  actual  time  during  which  different  species  have  remained 


4io 


Life  and  Immortality 


Life  Progressive.  411 

in  existence  are  noticeable,  and  therefore  corresponding  dif- 
ferences in  their  vertical  range,  or  in  the  actual  amount  and 
thickness  of  strata  through  which  they  present  themselves 
as  fossils,  some  species  being  found  to  extend  through  two  or 
three  formations,  and  even  a  few  have  had  a  more  prolonged 
existence.  More  commonly,  however,  the  species  which 
begin  in  the  commencement  of  a  great  formation  die  out  at 
or  before  its  close,  while  those  which  are  introduced  for  the 
first  time  near  its  middle  or  end  may  either  become  extinct 
or  pass  into  the  next  succeeding  formation,  animals  of  the 
lowest  and  simplest  organization  as  a  rule  having  the  longest 
range  in  time.  Microscopic  or  minute  dimensions  seem  to 
favor  longevity,  for  some  of  the  Foraminifera  appear  to  have 
survived,  with  little  or  no  perceptible  alteration,  from  the 
Silurian  Period  to  the  present  day,  whereas  largely  and 
highly-organized  animals,  though  long-lived  as  individuals, 
rarely  seem  to  live  long  specifically,  and  consequently  have 
a  restricted  vertical  range.  Exceptions  to  this  rule  are,  how- 
ever, occasionally  found  in  some  persistent  types,  the  Lamp- 
shells  of  the  genus  Lingula  being  little  changed  from  the 
Lingulae  that  swarmed  in  the  Lower  Silurian  seas,  while  the 
existing  Pearly  Nautilus  is  the  last  descendant  of  a  clan 
nearly  as  old.  Some  forms,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Ammo- 
nites, which  are  closely  related  to  the  Nautilus,  and  mostly 
restricted  to  certain  zones  of  strata,  seem  to  have  enjoyed  a 
comparatively  brief  lease  of  life. 

But  of  the  causes  that  have  led  to  the  extinction  of  plants 
and  animals,  little  or  nothing  is  known.  All  that  can  be 
affirmed,  in  our  present  knowledge,  is  that  the  attributes  con- 
stituting a  species  do  not  seem  to  be  intrinsically  endowed  with 
permanence,  any  more  than  those  constituting  an  individual, 
though  the  former  may  endure  whilst  many  successive  gen- 
erations of  the  latter  have  disappeared  from  the  earth.  Each 
species,  it  would  seem,  has  its  own  life-period — its  beginning, 
culmination  and  decay — the  life-periods  of  different  species 
being  of  very  different  duration.  From  all  that  has  been 


412 


Life  and  Immortality. 


CARBONIFEROUS  TIMES. 
Animals  and  Plants  That  Prevailed. 

said,  it  may  be  gathered  that  our  existing  plants  and  animals 
are  for  the  most  part  of  modern  origin,  using  the  term 
modern  in  its  geological  acceptation.  Measured  by  human 
standards,  many  of  our  existing  animals,  those  which  are 
capable  of  being  preserved  as  fossils,  are  known  to  have  a 
high  antiquity.  Not  a  few  of  our  shell-fish  commenced 
their  existence  at  some  time  in  the  Tertiary,  while  one 
species  of  Lampshell  —  Terebratulina  caput-serpcntis  —  is 
believed  to  have  survived  since  the  Chalk,  and  a  number  of 
the  Foraminifera  date  from  the  Carboniferous  Period.  Thus, 
we  learn  the  additional  fact  that  our  existing  flora  and  fauna 
do  not  constitute  an  aggregation  of  organic  forms  which 
were  introduced  into  the  world  collectively  and  simultane- 
ously, but  that  they  commenced  their  existence  at  very  dif- 
ferent times,  some  being  extremely  ancient,  whilst  others  are 
of  comparatively  recent  origin.  And  this  introduction  of 
existing  plants  and  animals,  as  admirably  shown  by  the 
study  of  the  fossil  shells  of  the  Tertiary  Period,  was  a  slow 


Life  Progressive.  413 

and  gradual  process.  Ninety-five  per  cent,  of  the  known 
fossil  shells  in  the  earliest  Tertiary  are  found  to  be  species 
no  longer  in  existence,  the  remaining  5  per  cent,  being  forms 
that  are  known  to  live  in  our  present  seas.  In  the  Middle 
Tertiary,  the  extinct  types  are  much  fewer  in  number,  while 
at  the  close  of  the  Period  the  proportion  with  which  we 
started  may  be  reversed,  not  more  than  5  per  cent,  being 
extinct  types. 

All  existing  animals  belong  to  some  five  or  six  primary 
divisions,  which  are  technically  known  as  sub-kingdoms, 
each  sub-kingdom  to  be  regarded  as  representing  a  certain 
plan  of  structure,  each  and  every  animal  embraced  therein 
being  merely  a  modified  form  of  this  common  type.  Not 
only  are  all  known  living  animals  reducible  to  these  five  or 
six  fundamental  plans,  but  also  the  vast  series  of  fossil  forms 
which  have  come  to  light  in  investigations  of  the  earth's 
strata.  While  many  fossil  groups  have  no  closely-related 
group  now  in  existence,  but  in  no  case  do  we  meet  with  a 
fossil  animal  whose  peculiarities  do  not  entitle  it  to  be 
placed  in  one  or  other  of  the  grand  structural  types  already 
indicated.  The  old  types  differ  in  many  respects  from  those 
now  upon  the  earth,  and  the  further  we  go  back  in  time  the 
more  pronounced  does  the  divergence  become.  A  com- 
parison of  the  animals  that  lived  in  the  old  Silurian  seas 
with  those  now  occupying  our  oceans,  would  indicate  differ- 
ences so  great  in  many  instances  as  almost  to  place  us  in 
another  world,  this  divergence  being  most  marked  in  the 
Palaeozoic  forms  of  life,  less  so  in  those  of  the  Mesozoic,  and 
still  less  so  in  the  Tertiary.  Each  successive  formation  has 
therefore  presented  us  with  animals  becoming  gradually 
more  and  more  like  those  now  in  existence.  Though  there 
is,  however,  an  immense  and  striking  difference  between  the 
Silurian  animals  and  those  of  the  present  day,  yet  this  differ- 
ence is  considerably  lessened  when  a  comparison  is  instituted 
between  the  Silurian  and  the  Devonian,  and  this  with  the 
Carboniferous,  and  so  on  down  to  the  present  period. 


414  Life  and  Immortality. 

Thus  it  follows  that  the  animals  of  any  given  formation, 
and  the  plants  as  well,  where  the  records  are  preserved,  are 
more  like  those  of  the  next  formation  below  and  of  the  next 
formation  above,  than  they  are  like  any  others.  This  fact  of 
itself  is  an  inexplicable  one.  But  if  we  believe  that  the 
animals  and  plants  of  any  given  formation  are,  in  part  at 
any  rate,  the  lineal  descendants  of  those  of  the  preceding, 
and  the  progenitors,  also  in  part  at  least,  of  those  of  the  suc- 
ceeding formation,  then  the  fact  is  readily  comprehensible. 
So  frequently  confronted  is  the  palaeontologist  with  the  phe- 
nomenon of  closely-related  forms,  especially  of  animals, 
succeeding  one  another  in  point  of  time,  that  he  is  compelled 
to  believe  that  such  forms  have  been  developed  from  some 
common  ancestral  type  by  some  process  of  evolution.  Upon 
no  other  theory  can  we  comprehend  why  the  Post-Tertiary 
mammals  of  South  America  should  consist  of  edentates, 
llamas,  tapirs,  peccaries,  platyrhine  monkeys  and  other  forms 
now  characterizing  this  continent,  while  those  of  Australia 
should  be  exclusively  referable  to  the  order  of  marsupials  ; 
and  on  no  other  view  can  we  explain  the  common  occur- 
rence of  transitional  forms  of  life,  filling  in  the  gaps  between 
groups  now  widely  distinct.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
are  facts  which  point  clearly  to  the  presence  of  some  other 
law  than  that  of  evolution,  and  probably  of  a  deeper  and 
more  far-reaching  character.  No  theory  of  evolution  can 
offer  a  satisfactory  explanation  for  the  constant  introduction 
throughout  geological  time  of  new  forms  of  life,  which  do 
not  appear  to  be  preceded  by  pre-existent  allied  types.  The 
graptolites  and  trilobites  have  no  known  predecessors,  and 
leave  no  known  successors.  Insects  appear  suddenly  in  the 
Devonian,  and  spiders  and  myriopods  in  the  Carboniferous, 
but  all  under  well  -  differentiated  and  highly -specialized 
forms.  With  equal  apparent  suddenness  the  Dibranchiate 
Cephalopods  show  themselves  in  the  older  Mesozoic  de- 
posits, and  no  known  type  of  the  Palaeozoic  period  can 
be  pointed  to  as  a  possible  ancestor.  And  so  does  the 


Life  Progressive. 


415 


wonderful  dicotyledonous  flora  of  the  Upper  Cretaceous 
similarly  surprise  us  without  any  prophetic  annunciation 
from  the  older  Jurassic.  Many  other  instances  might  be 
cited,  but  enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  the  problem 
is  one  environed  with  profound  difficulties. 

As  we  pass  from  the  older  rocks  into  the  newer,  we  not 
only  find  that  the  animals  of  each  successive  formation 
become  gradually  more  and  more  like  existing  species  upon 
the  globe,  but  we  also  find  that  there  has  been  a  gradual 


MESOZOIC  FLORA   AND  FAUNA. 
Cycads,  Pandanus,  Deinosaurs,  Birds  and  Pterodactyl. 

progression  and  development  in  the  types  of  animal  life 
which  characterize  the  geological  ages.  Taking  the  earliest- 
known  and  oldest  examples  of  any  given  group,  it  can  some- 
times be  shown  that  these  primitive  forms,  even  though  they 
are  highly  organized  themselves,  possessed  certain  charac- 
ters such  as  are  now  only  to  be  met  with  in  the  young  of 
their  existing  representatives.  Such  characters,  which  are 
technically  called  embryonic  characters,  do  not  prevent  the 
frequent  attainment  by  their  possessors  of  sizes  much  more 


41 6  Life  and  Immortality. 

gigantic  than  those  of  their  nearest  living  relatives.  More- 
over, these  ancient  forms  of  life  represent  what  are  called 
comprehensive  types,  or  types  that  possess  characters  in 
combination  such  as  are  nowadays  found  separately  devel- 
oped in  different  groups  of  animals.  Such  permanent  reten- 
tion of  embryonic  characters  and  comprehensiveness  of 
structural  type  are  signs  of  what  zoologists  consider  to  be 
comparatively  low  grades  of  organization,  and  their  preva- 
lence in  the  earlier  forms  of  animals  is  a  very  astonishing 
phenomenon,  though  they  are  none  the  less  perfectly  organ- 
ized so  far  as  their  peculiar  type  is  concerned.  As  we  ascend 
the  geological  scale,  these  features  will  be  found  to  gradu- 
ally disappear,  higher  and  even  higher  forms  will  be  intro- 
duced, and  specialization  of  type  take  the  place  of  the  former 
comprehensiveness.  That  there  has  been  in  the  past  a  gen- 
eral progression  of  organic  types,  and  that  the  appearance  of 
the  lower  forms  of  life  has  in  the  main  preceded  that  of  the 
higher  forms  in  point  of  time,  is  a  widely-accepted  generaliza- 
tion of  palaeontology. 

Now  that  it  has  been  seen  that  there  has  been  a  gradual 
progression  and  development  of  animal  types  all  through 
the  ages  up  to  the  era  of  man,  the  question  naturally  occurs 
whether  or  not  the  changes  are  still  going  on  which  will 
result  in  a  higher  development.  Man  coexisted  in  Western 
Europe  with  several  remarkable  mammals  in  the  later  por- 
tion of  the  Post-Pliocene  Period.  While  we  do  not  know 
the  causes  which  led  to  the  extinction  of  the  mammoth^ 
woolly  rhinoceros,  cave-lion  and  others,  yet  we  do  know  that 
scarcely  any  mammalian  species  have  become  extinct  during 
the  historical  period.  The  species  with  which  man  coexisted 
are  such  that  presumably  required  a  very  different  climate  to 
that  now  prevailing  in  Western  Europe.  Some  of  the  depos- 
its in  which  man's  remains  have  been  found  in  association 
with  the  bones  of  extinct  mammals  incontestably  show  that 
great  changes  in  the  physiography  and  surface-configuration 
of  the  country  had  taken  place  since  the  period  of  their 


Life  Progressive.  417 

accumulation,  the  human  implements  themselves  bearing  evi- 
dence of  an  exceedingly  barbarous  condition  of  the  human 
species.  Post-Pliocene,  or  Palaeolithic  man,  was  clearly 
unacquainted  with  the  use  of  the  metals.  Not  only  was  this 
the  case,  but  the  workmanship  of  these  ancient  races  was 
much  inferior  to  that  of  the  later  tribes,  who  were  also  igno- 
rant of  the  metals,  and  who  also  used  nothing  but  weapons 
and  tools  of  stone,  bone,  etc.,  in  war,  chase  and  domestic 
affairs.  When  first  man  spread  over  the  earth,  he  had  no 
domestic  animals,  perhaps  not  even  the  dog,  and  had  no 
knowledge  of  agriculture.  His  weapons  were  of  the  rudest 
character,  and  his  houses  scarcely  worthy  of  the  name.  No 
doubt  can  exist  that  his  food,  habits  and  entire  manner  of 
living  have  varied  as  he  has  passed  from  country  to  country, 
for  he  must  then  have  been  far  more  subject  to  the  influence 
of  external  circumstances,  and  in  all  probability  more  sus- 
ceptible of  change.  Moreover,  his  form,  which  is  now  ste- 
reotyped by  long  ages  of  repetition,  may  reasonably  be  pre- 
sumed to  have  been  more  plastic  than  is  now  the  case.  As 
long  as  man  led  a  mere  animal  existence,  he  would  be  sub- 
ject to  the  same  laws,  and  would  vary  in  the  same  manner  as 
the  rest  of  his  fellow-creatures.  But  when  at  last  he  had 
acquired  the  capacity  of  clothing  himself,  and  of  making 
weapons  or  tools,  he  has  taken  away  from  nature,  in  a  great 
measure,  that  power  of  changing  the  external  form  and 
structure  which  she  exercises  over  all  other  animals.  From 
the  time,  then,  when  his  social  and  sympathetic  feelings  came 
into  active  operation,  and  his  intellectual  and  moral  faculties 
became  fairly  developed,  man's  physical  form  and  structure 
would  not  be  so  much  influenced  by  natural  laws,  and,  there- 
fore, as  an  animal,  he  would  become  almost  stationary,  his 
environment  ceasing  to  have  upon  him  that  powerful  modi- 
fying effect  which  it  exercises  over  other  parts  of  the  organic 
world.  But  from  the  moment  that  his  body  became  less  sub- 
ject to  the  changes  of  the  surrounding  universe,  his  mind 
would  become  acted  upon  by  the  influences  which  the  body 


4 1 8  Life  and  Immortality. 

had  escaped.  Every  slight  variation  in  his  mental  and  moral 
nature,  which  would  consequently  be  brought  about,  and 
which  would  enable  him  better  to  guard  against  adverse  cir- 
cumstances, and  league  together  for  mutual  comfort  and 
protection,  would  be  preserved  and  accumulated.  The  better 
and  higher  specimens  of  our  race  would  therefore  increase  and 
diffuse  themselves,  while  the  lower  and  more  brutal  would 
succumb  and  successively  die  out,  and  that  rapid  advance- 
ment of  mental  organization  would  occur,  which  has  raised 
the  very  lowest  races  of  men,  whose  mentality  was  scarcely 
superior  to  the  animal,  to  that  high  position  which  it  has 
attained  in  the  Germanic  races.  It  would  be  too  bold  an 
assertion  to  say  that  man's  body  has  become  stationary. 
Slow  and  gradual  changes  still  take  place,  although  his  mere 
bodily  structure  long  ago  became  of  less  importance  to  him 
than  that  subtle  energy,  which  is  termed  mind.  No  one  can 
doubt  that  this  gave  his  naked  and  unprotected  body  cloth- 
ing against  the  varying  inclemencies  of  the  seasons  and 
enabled  him  to  compete  with  the  deer  in  swiftness  and  the 
wild  bull  in  strength  by  giving  him  weapons  wherewith  to 
capture  or  subdue  them  both.  Though  less  capable  than 
most  other  animals  of  subsisting  on  the  herbs  and  the  fruits 
of  unaided  nature,  it  was  this  wonderful  faculty  that  taught 
him  to  govern  and  direct  nature  to  his  own  benefit,  and  com- 
pel her  to  produce  food  for  him  when  and  where  he  pleased. 
From  the  moment,  then,  when  the  first  skin  was  used  as  a 
covering,  the  first  rude  spear  fashioned  to  aid  in  the  chase, 
and  the  first  seed  sown  or  shoot  planted,  a  grand  revolution 
was  effected  in  nature,  a  revolution  which  had  had  no  parallel 
in  all  the  previous  cycles  of  the  world's  history,  for  a  being 
had  arisen  who  was  no  longer  necessarily  subject  to  a 
changing  universe,  a  being  who  was  in  some  degree  superior 
to  nature,  inasmuch  as  he  knew  how  to  control  and  regulate 
her  action,  and  could  maintain  himself  in  unison  with  her, 
not  by  a  change  brought  about  in  the  body,  but  by  a  growth 
and  advance  in  mind.  Therein  are  shadowed  forth  the  true 


Life  Progressive.  419 

grandeur  and  dignity  of  man.  Not  only  has  he  achieved 
for  himself  a  great  victory  in  this  rising  by  the  power  of 
mind  superior  to  nature  in  a  sense,  but  he  has  also  gained  a 
directing  influence  over  other  existences,  in  that  he  has  been 
able  to  grasp  from  nature  some  of  that  power  which,  before 
his  apppearance,  she  universally  exercised.  From  all  that 
man  has  accomplished  in  the  past,  it  is  easy  to  anticipate  the 
time  when  only  cultivated  plants  and  domestic  animals  will 
be  produced  by  the  earth,  and  when  the  ocean,  which,  for 
countless  cycles  of  ages  ruled  supreme  over  the  globe,  will 
be  the  only  domain  in  which  that  power  can  be  exercised. 

That  man  has  improved  under  civilization  there  can  be  no 
question.  Statistics  show  that,  since  the  introduction  of 
civilization,  the  population  of  the  earth  in  general  has 
increased.  No  one  can  fail  to  observe  that  under  its  influence 
the  means  of  subsistence  have  increased  even  more  rapidly 
than  the  population.  Far  from  suffering  for  lack  of  food, 
the  most  densely  peopled  countries  are  those  in  which  it 
is,  not  only  absolutely  but  even  relatively  most  abundant. 
A  thousand  men  live  to-day  in  plenty  upon  an  area  of  ground 
that  would  scarcely  afford  a  scanty  and  precarious  subsist- 
ence to  a  single  savage.  There  is  no  denying  the  fact  that 
happiness  is  increased  by  civilization.  To  talk  of  the  free 
and  noble  savage  is  folly.  The  true  savage  is  neither  free 
nor  noble.  He  is  a  slave  to  his  own  wants,  his  own  passions. 
Imperfectly  protected  as  he  is  from  the  weather,  he  suffers 
at  night  from  the  cold  and  by  day  from  the  heat  of  the  sun. 
Ignorant  of  agriculture,  living  by  the  chase,  and  improvident 
in  success,  hunger  ever  stares  him  in  the  face,  and  often  drives 
him  to  the  dreadful  alternative  of  cannibalism  or  death.  The 
life  of  all  beasts  in  their  wild  state  is  certainly  an  exceedingly 
anxious  one.  So  it  is  with  the  savage  He  is  always  sus- 
picious, always  in  danger,  always  on  the  watch.  He  can 
depend  on  no  one,  and  no  one  can  depend  upon  him,  for  he 
expects  nothing  from  his  neighbor,  and  does  unto  others  as 
he  believes  that  they  would  do  unto  him.  His  life  is  one 


420  Life  and  Immortality. 

prolonged  scene  of  selfishness  and  fear.  Even  in  his  religion, 
if  he  has  any,  he  creates  for  himself  a  new  source  of  terror, 
and  peoples  the  world  with  invisible  enemies.  More  wretched 
is  the  position  of  the  female  savage  than  that  of  her  master, 
for  she  not  only  shares  his  sufferings,  but  has  also  to  bear 
his  ill-humor  and  ill-usage,  being  little  better  than  his  dog, 
little  dearer  than  his  horse.  Few  of  them,  it  is  believed,  are 
so  fortunate  as  to  die  a  natural  death,  being  despatched  ere 
they  become  old  and  emaciated,  that  so  much  good  food 
shall  not  be  lost.  Indeed,  so  little  importance  is  attached 
to  women,  either  before  or  after  death,  that  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  the  man  does  not  esteem  his  dog,  when  alive,  quite 
as  much  as  he  does  his  woman,  and  think  of  both  quite  as 
often  and  as  lovingly  after  he  has  made  a  meal  of  them. 
Not  content,  moreover,  with  the  pleasures  incident  to  their 
mode  of  life,  savages  appear  to  take  a  melancholy  delight  in 
self-inflicted  sufferings.  They  not  only  tattoo  their  bodies, 
but  practise  the  most  extraordinary  methods  of  disfigurement 
and  self-torture,  some  amputating  the  little  finger,  while  others 
drill  immense  holes  in  the  under-lip,  or  pierce  the  cartilage 
of  the  nose.  These  and  many  other  curious  practices,  none 
the  less  painful  because  they  are  voluntary,  are  in  vogue 
among  savage  people.  Turning  now  to  the  bright  side  of 
the  question,  we  cannot  but  conclude  that  the  pleasures  of 
civilized  man  are  greater  than  those  of  the  savage.  While 
man  will  never  be  able  to  improve  the  organization  of  the 
eye  or  the  ear,  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  the  invention  of  the 
telescope  and  the  microscope  is  equivalent  in  its  results  to 
an  immense  improvement  of  the  eyes,  thus  opening  up  to  us 
new  worlds,  fresh  sources  of  interest  and  happiness,  while 
the  training  of  the  ear  will  enable  us  to  invent  new  musical 
instruments  and  compose  new  melodies.  The  savage,  like  a 
child,  sees  and  hears  only  that  which  is  brought  directly 
before  him,  but  the  civilized  man  questions  nature,  and  by 
the  various  processes  of  chemistry,  electricity  and  magnet- 
ism, and  a  thousand  ingenious  contrivances,  forces  nature  to 


Life  Progressive.  421 

reveal  herself,  thereby  discovering  hidden  uses  and  unsus- 
pected beauties,  quite  as  marvellously  as  though  he  were 
endowed  with  some  entirely  new  organ  of  sense.  Through 
the  discovery  of  printing,  we  are  brought  into  communion 
with  the  greatest  minds,  and  thus  the  thoughts  of  a  Shakes- 
peare or  a  Tennyson,  or  the  discoveries  of  a  Newton  or  a 
Darwin,  become  the  common  property  of  mankind.  Already 
the  results  of  this  all-important,  though  simple,  process 
have  vastly  improved  our  mental  faculties,  and  day  by 
day,  as  books  become  cheaper,  schools  are  established  and 
education  more  general,  a  greater  and  greater  effect  will  be 
produced. 

Nor  are  all  these  new  sources  of  happiness  accompanied 
by  any  new  liability  to  suffering.  On  the  contrary,  while 
our  pleasures  are  increased,  our  pains  are  lessened.  In  a 
thousand  ways  we  can  avoid  or  diminish  evils  which  to  our 
ancestors  were  great  and  unavoidable.  No  one  can  estimate 
the  misery  which,  for  instance,  the  simple  discovery  of 
chloroform  has  spared  the  human  race.  The  capacity  for 
pain,  so  far  as  it  can  serve  as  a  warning,  remains  all  the 
same,  but  the  necessity  for  endurance  has  been  greatly 
diminished.  With  increased  knowledge  of  the  laws  of 
health,  and  attention  thereto,  disease  will  become  less  and 
less  frequent,  and  those  tendencies  to  disease  which  we  have 
inherited  from  our  ancestors  will  gradually  die  out,  and,  if 
fresh  seeds  are  not  sown,  the  race  will  one  day  enjoy  the 
inestimable  advantages  of  a  more  vigorous  and  healthy 
existence.  Thus,  then,  with  the  increasing  influence  of 
science  we  may  confidently  look  forward  to  a  great  improve- 
ment in  the  condition  of  man.  But  it  may  be  alleged  that 
our  present  sufferings  and  sorrows  arise  chiefly  from  sin, 
and  that  any  moral  improvement  must  come  from  religion 
and  not  from  science.  This  separation  of  the  two  mighty 
agents  of  improvement,  the  great  misfortune  of  humanity, 
has  done  more  than  anything  else  to  retard  the  progress  of 
civilization.  But  even  if  we  admit  for  the  nonce  that  science 


422  Life  and  Immortality. 

will  not  render  us  more  virtuous,  it  must  certainly  make  us 
more  innocent,  for  in  fact  the  most  of  our  criminal  population 
are  mere  savages,  persons  who  can  rarely  read  and  write, 
and  whose  crimes  are  but  injudicious  and  desperate  attempts 
to  live  a  savage  life  in  the  midst,  and  at  the  expense,  of  a 
civilized  community.  Men  do  wrong  either  from  ignorance 
or  in  the  hope,  unexpressed  perhaps  even  to  themselves,  that 
they  may  enjoy  the  pleasure  and  yet  avoid  the  penalty  of 
sin.  All  that  they  have  to  do  they  think,  when  they  have 
committed  sin,  is  to  repent.  The  religious  teaching  of  the 
day  has  much  to  do  with  this  misapprehension.  Repentance 
is  too  frequently  regarded  as  a  substitute  for  punishment. 
Sin  it  is  thought  is  followed  either  by  the  one  or  the  other. 
So  far,  therefore,  as  this  world  is  concerned,  this  is  not  the 
case ;  repentance  may  enable  a  man  to  avoid  sin  in  future, 
but  has  no  effect  on  the  consequences  of  the  past.  The  laws 
of  nature  are  not  only  just  and  salutary,  but  they  are  also 
inexorable.  While  all  men  admit  that  "  the  wages  of  sin  is 
death,"  yet  they  seem  to  think  that  this  is  a  general  rule  to 
which  there  may  be  many  exceptions,  that  some  sins  may 
possibly  tend  to  happiness.  That  suffering  is  the  inevitable 
consequence  of  sin,  as  surely  as  an  effect  follows  a  cause,  is 
the  stern  yet  salutary  teaching  of  science.  And  certainly 
if  this  lesson  were  thoroughly  impressed  upon  our  minds, 
that  punishment  and  not  happiness  is  the  consequence  of 
sin,  then  temptation,  which  is  the  very  root  of  crime,  would 
be  cut  away,  and  mankind  must  therefore  necessarily  become 
more  innocent.  May  we  not  go  still  further  and  say  that 
science  will  also  render  us  more  virtuous  ?  He  who  studies 
philosophy  can  only  obtain  a  just  idea  of  the  great  things  for 
which  Providence  has  fitted  his  understanding.  Such  a 
study  not  only  makes  our  lives  more  agreeable,  but  it  also 
makes  them  better,  and  every  motive  of  interest  and  duty 
should  constrain  a  rational  being  to  direct  his  mind  towards 
pursuits  which  all  experience  has  shown  to  be  the  sure  path 
of  virtue,  and  happiness. 


Life  Progressive.  423 

Man  is  in  reality  but  on  the  threshold  of  civilization:  Far 
from  showing  any  indication  of  having  reached  the  end,  the 
tendency  to  improvement  seems  laterally  to  have  proceeded 
with  augmented  impetus  and  accelerated  rapidity.  There 
is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  it  must  now  cease.  Man  has  not 
attained  the  limits  of  intellectual  development,  nor  exhausted 
the  infinite  capabilities  of  nature.  There  are  many  things 
not  yet  dreamt  of  in  our  philosophy  which  science  must 
reveal,  many  discoveries  yet  to  be  made  which  will  confer 
upon  the  human  race  advantages  which  as  yet,  perhaps,  we 
are  not  in  a  condition  to  grasp  and  appreciate.  We  seem, 
when  we  compare  our  present  knowledge  with  the  great 
ocean  of  truth  that  lies  all  undiscovered  before  us,  like  little 
children  playing  on  the  sea-shore,  and  picking  up  a  smoother 
pebble  and  prettier  shell  than  any  they  had  met  with  before. 
Thus,  it  is  obvious,  that  our  most  sanguine  hopes  for  the 
future  are  justified  by  the  entire  experience  of  the  past.  It 
is  surely  unreasonable  to  presume  that  a  process  which  has 
been  going  on  for  so  many  thousand  years  should  have  now 
suddenly  ceased ;  and  he  must  indeed  be  blind  who  thinks 
that  our  civilization  is  unsusceptible  of  improvement,  or  that 
we  ourselves  are  in  the  highest  state  possible  for  man  to 
attain.  Theory,  as  well  as  experience,  forces  the  same  con- 
clusion upon  us.  That  principle  of  Natural  Selection,  which  in 
animals  affects  the  body  and  seems  to  have  little  influence  on 
the  mind,  in  man  affects  the  mind  and  has  little  influence  on 
the  body.  In  the  former  it  leads  mainly  to  the  preservation 
of  life,  and  in  the  latter  to  the  improvement  of  the  mind,  and 
consequently  to  the  increase  of  happiness.  It  ensures,  in 
the  words  of  Spencer,  "a  constant  progress  towards  a 
higher  skill,  intelligence,  and  self-regulation — a  better  co- 
ordination of  actions — a  more  complete  life."  Nearly  all 
the  evils  under  which  we  suffer,  it  will  be  conceded,  may  be 
attributed  either  to  ignorance  or  sin.  That  ignorance  will  be 
diminished  by  the  progress  of  science  is,  of  course,  self-evi- 
dent; and  that  the  same  will  be  the  case  with  sin,  seems 


424  Life  find  Immortality. 

little  less  so.  Thus,  then,  do  both  science  and  theory  point 
to  the  same  conclusion.  That  which  poets  hardly  dared  to 
hope  for,  the  future  happiness  of  our  race,  science  boldly 
predicts.  Even  in  our  own  time  we  trust  to  see  some 
wonderful  improvement.  But  the  unselfish  mind,  however, 
will  find  its  highest  gratification  in  the  belief  that,  whatever  may 
be  the  case  with  ourselves,  our  descendants  will  understand 
many  things  which  are  mysterious  to  us  now,  will  better 
appreciate  the  beautiful  world  in  which  we  live,  avoid  much 
of  the  suffering  to  which  we  are  subject,  enjoy  many  blessings 
of  which  we  are  not  yet  worthy,  and  escape  many  of  those 
temptations  which  we  deplore  but  cannot  wholly  resist. 

We  have  thus  seen  that  all  life  has  been  progressive. 
There  has  been  through  the  ages  a  steadily  growing  upward 
tendency  to  higher  life.  But  the  changes  have  mainly 
been  in  the  line  of  physical  form  and  structure.  And 
such,  too,  had  been  the  case  with  man,  until  his  social, 
intellectual  and  moral  faculties  had  begun  to  assert  them- 
selves, when  his  body  ceased  in  a  great  measure  to  be 
acted  upon  by  physical  laws,  and  development  began  to 
manifest  itself  in  a  higher  type  of  mental  organization. 
From  the  low,  simple,  childlike  mind  of  palaeolithic  man 
has  come  that  wonderful  intellect  which  now  characterizes 
the  Germanic  races,  and  which  is  destined  to  make  itself 
felt  in  its  contact  with  all  the  earth.  Those  peoples  that  are 
able  to  embrace  the  new  civilization  brought  to  their  doors, 
so  to  speak,  will  survive,  while  the  others,  unable  to  adapt 
themselves  thereto,  like  the  Tasmanian,  will  succumb  in  the 
struggle  with  a  superior  being  and  go  to  the  wall.  Animals 
and  plants  will  be  brought  into  new  relations  and  new 
conditions,  and  such  as  can  meet  the  new  requirements  will, 
as  certain  species  have  done  before,  endure.  They  will,  in 
other  words,  have  partaken  of  an  enlightened  civilization. 
Thus  things  will  go  on  until  all  life,  vegetal  and  animal, 
will  be  brought  under  the  controlling  and  elevating  influ- 
ence of -man,  and  then  will  be  inaugurated  on  earth  that 


Life  Progressive.  425 

condition  when  the  lion  and  the  kid  shall  lie  down  together, 
and  a  little  child  shall  be  found  in  their  midst.  Nothing 
harmful  will  anywhere  exist.  Heaven  will  then  have  been 
brought  down  to  earth,  and  peace  and  harmony  will  univer- 
sally prevail.  Then  will  have  come  the  complete  triumph 
of  mind  over  body.  All  growth  and  development  of  the 
reformed  and  regenerated  earth-man  will  be  in  the  direction 
of  mind,  and  his  accomplishments  will  he  share  with  the 
inferior  subjects  of  his  peaceful  and  happy  domain.  Pro- 
gression, however,  will  not  cease,  but  will  go  on  steadily 
advancing  as  the  years  increase.  And  if  there  is  a  life 
beyond  the  earth-life,  then  the  intellect  or  mind,  or  soul  if 
you  please,  shall,  in  some  form  or  other,  exist  therein, 
and  reach  up  into  higher  and  yet  higher  growth  and 
development. 


Of  THE  FITTEST. 


AMONG  organic  beings  in  a  state  of  nature  there  is  some 
individual  variability.  This  is  an  admission  about 
which  there  can  be  no  dispute.  But  the  mere  existence  of 
individual  variability  and  of  a  few  well-marked  varieties, 
though  necessary  as  the  foundation  for  the  work,  assists  us 
but  little  in  understanding  how  species  originate  in  nature. 
Those  exquisite  adaptations  of  one  part  of  the  organization  to 
another  part,  and  to  the  conditions  of  life,  and  of  one  organic 
being  to  another  being,  which  we  know  to  exist,  seem  as 
mysteries.  We  see  them  in  the  humblest  parasite  that  clings 
to  the  hairs  of  a  quadruped  or  the  feathers  of  a  bird,  in  the 
structure  of  the  beetle  that  dives  through  the  water,  and  in 
the  plumed  seed  that  is  wafted  by  the  gentlest  breeze.  In 
short,  we  see  beautiful  adaptations  everywhere  and  in  every 
part  of  the  organic  world.  And  yet,  how  few  have  paused 
while  admiring  these  beautiful  and  wonderful  co-adaptations 
to  ask  themselves  the  question :  How  have  these  been 
perfected  ? 

If  the  existence  of  any  well-marked  varieties  be  admitted, 
how  is  it  that  these  varieties,  which  may  be  denominated 
incipient  species,  become  ultimately  converted  into  good 
and  distinct  species,  which  in  the  generality  of  cases  obviously 
differ  from  each  in  a  greater  degree  than  do  the  varieties  of 
the  same  species  ?  How  do  these  groups  of  species,  which 
constitute  what  are  authoritatively  called  genera,  and  which 
differ  from  each  other  more  than  do  the  species  of  the  same 
genus,  arise  ?  All  these  results,  as  will  presently  be  seen,  fol- 
low from  the  Struggle  for  Existence.  Owing  to  this  struggle, 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  427 

all  variations,  no  matter  how  slight  they  may  be,  or  from  what 
cause  soever  they  may  proceed,  will,  if  they  be  in  any  degree 
profitable  to  the  individuals  of  a  species  in  their  infinitely 
complex  relations  to  other  organic  beings  and  their  physical 
conditions  of  life,  unavoidably  conduce  to  the  preservation  of 
such  individuals,  and  generally  be  inherited  by  the  offspring. 
The  offspring,  too,  will  thus  have  a  better  chance  of  surviving, 
for,  of  the  many  individuals  of  a  species  that  are  periodically 
born,  but  a  very  small  number  can  survive.  That  principle, 
by  which  each  slight  variation,  if  useful  to  the  individual,  is 
preserved,  has  been  termed  Natural  Selection  by  Darwin,  in 
order  to  distinguish  it  from  the  selection  which  is  exercised 
by  man  over  the  plants  and  animals  which  he  has  brought 
under  subjection  for  his  own  wants.  But  the  expression  — 
Survival  of  the  Fittest — so  frequently  used  by  Spencer,  is 
more  accurate,  and  sometimes  equally  convenient.  Man  can 
certainly  produce  great  results  by  this  power,  and  can  adapt, 
through  the  accumulation  of  slight  but  useful  variations 
given  to  him  by  the  hand  of  nature,  organic  beings  to  his 
own  uses.  But  Natural  Selection,  as  is  well  known,  is  a 
power  incessantly  ready  for  action,  and  is  as  infinitely 
superior  to  man's  feeble  efforts  as  the  works  of  nature  are  to 
those  of  art. 

All  organic  beings  are  exposed  to  severe  competition. 
Nothing  is  easier  than  to  admit  in  words  the  truth  of  the 
universal  struggle  for  life,  or  more  difficult  than  constantly  to 
bear  this  conclusion,  which  has  been  reached  through  the 
investigations  and  researches  of  De  Candolle,  Lyell,  Herbert, 
Darwin  and  others,  in  mind.  Unless,  however,  it  be  thor- 
oughly ingrained  in  the  mind,  the  whole  economy  of  nature, 
with  every  fact  on  distribution,  rarity,  abundance,  extinction 
and  variation,  will  be  but  dimly  perceived  or  quite  misunder- 
stood. We  behold  the  face  of  nature  radiant  with  gladness, 
and  food  everywhere  in  excessive  abundance,  but  we  do  not 
see  that  the  birds  which  are  happily  singing  round  us  mostly 
live  on  insects  or  seeds,  and  are  thus  constantly  destroying 


428  Life  and  Immortality. 

life,  or  we  fail  to  remember  how  largely  these  songsters,  or 
their  eggs,  or  their  nestlings,  are  destroyed  by  birds  and 
beasts  of  prey.  Yes,  we  do  not  always  bear  in  mind  that, 
though  food  may  now  be  superabundant,  it  is  not  so  at  all 
seasons  of  each  recurring  year.  The  term,  Struggle  for 
Existence,  must  be  used  in  a  large  and  metaphorical  sense. 
It  must  be  construed  to  include  the  dependence  of  one  being 
on  another,  and  also  not  only  the  life  of  the  individual  but 
also  its  success  in  leaving  offspring.  Two  carnivores,  in  a 
time  of  scarcity  of  food,  may  be  truly  said  to  struggle  with 
each  other  for  maintenance  of  life.  But  a  plant  on  the  edge 
of  a  desert  is  said  to  struggle  for  life  against  the  drought, 
though,  properly  speaking,  it  is  dependent  for  its  existence 
upon  the  moisture.  A  plant,  however,  that  annually  produces 
many  thousand  seeds  of  which  on  an  average  only  one  comes 
to  maturity,  may  in  a  much  truer  sense  be  said  to  struggle 
with  the  plants  of  the  same  and  other  kinds  which  already 
invest  the  ground.  While  the  mistletoe  is  dependent  on  the 
apple  and  some  other  trees,  yet  it  cannot  be  said,  unless  in  a 
far-fetched  sense,  to  struggle  with  these  trees,  for,  if  too 
many  of  these  parasites  are  found  upon  the  same  tree,  it  will 
certainly  languish  and  die.  Several  seedling  mistletoes,  how- 
ever, growing  close  together  upon  the  same  branch,  may 
more  truly  be  said  to  struggle  with  each  other. 

From  the  high  rate  at  which  all  organic  beings  tend  to 
increase,  there  must  inevitably  follow  a  Struggle  for  Existence. 
Every  being  which,  during  its  natural  lifetime,  produces 
several  eggs  or  seeds,  must  necessarily  suffer  destruction 
during  some  part  of  that  period,  and  during  some  season  or 
occasional  year,  otherwise,  on  the  principle  of  Geometrical 
Increase,  its  numbers  would  become  so  inordinately  exces- 
sive .that  no  country  would  be  able  to  support  its  product. 
Therefore,  as  more  individuals  are  produced  than  can  pos- 
sibly survive,  there  must  be  in  every  case  a  Struggle  for 
Existence,  either  one  individual  struggling  with  another  of 
the  same  kind,  or  with  individuals  of  distinct  kinds  or  species, 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  429 

or  with  the  conditions  of  the  environment.  This  is  the 
doctrine  of  Malthus  applied  with  manifold  force  to  the  entire 
vegetable  and  animal  kingdoms.  Although  some  species 
may  be  now  increasing  at  a  very  high  rate  in  numbers,  yet 
all  cannot  do  so,  for  the  earth  would  not  be  able  to  contain 
them.  Slow-breeding  man  has  doubled  in  twenty-five  years, 
and  should  he  go  on  at  this  rate  for  a  few  thousand  years, 
there  would  literally  not  be  standing  room  for  his  progeny. 
It  has  been  calculated  that,  if  an  annual  plant  produced  only 
two  seeds,  and  their  seedlings  next  year  produced  two,  and 
the  same  rate  of  increase  was  kept  up  for  twenty  years,  there 
would  be  a  million  of  plants  as  the  result.  Even  the  elephant, 
which  is  reckoned  the  slowest  breeder  of  all  known  animals, 
would  after  a  period  of  from  seven  hundred  and  forty  to  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  years  leave  nearly  nineteen  million  ele- 
phants as  descendants  from  the  first  pair. 

Much  better  evidence  than  mere  theoretical  calculations 
are  not  wanting  on  this  subject.  Instances  are  recorded  of 
the  astonishingly  rapid  increase  of  various  animals  in  a  state 
of  nature,  when  conditions  have  been  favorable  to  them, 
during  two  or  three  succeeding  seasons.  More  striking, 
however,  is  the  evidence  from  domestic  animals  that  have 
run  wild  in  several  parts  of  the  world.  Were  not  the  state- 
ments of  the  rate  of  increase  of  cattle  and  horses  in  South 
America,  and  latterly  in  Australia,  where  millions  now 
abound,  well  authenticated,  they  would  have  been  incredible. 
Cases  could  be  mentioned  of  introduced  plants  that  have 
become  quite  common  throughout  entire  islands  in  a  period 
of  less  than  twelve  years.  Several  of  these  plants,  the  car- 
doon  and  a  rare  thistle,  which  were  introduced  from  Europe, 
clothe  square  leagues  of  the  surface  of  the  wide  plains  of 
the  La  Plata  almost  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  plants  ; 
and  there  are  plants  which  now  range  in  India,  from  Cape 
Comorin  to  the  Himalaya,  which  have  been  imported 
from  America  since  its  discovery.  In  all  such  cases,  and 
endless  instances  could  be  adduced,  no  intelligent  person 


43 o  Life  and  Immortality. 

supposes  that  their  fertility  has  been  increased  in  any 
sensible  degree  by  change  of  habitat,  the  obvious  explana- 
tion being  that  the  conditions  of  environment  have  been 
very  favorable,  and  that  there  has  consequently  been  less 
destruction  of  old  and  young,  and  that  nearly  all  the  latter 
have  been  enabled  to  breed.  The  extraordinarily  rapid 
increase  and  wide  diffusion  of  naturalized  productions  in 
new  homes,  a  result  which  never  fails  to  evoke  surprise,  is 
only  to  be  explained  on  the  principle  of  the  Geometrical 
Ratio  of  Increase.  As  in  nature  almost  every  plant  produces 
seed,  and  there  are  very  few  animals  that  do  not  annually 
pair,  therefore  we  can  confidently  assert  that  all  plants  and 
animals  are  tending  to  increase  in  a  geometrical  ratio  ;  that 
all  would  most  rapidly  stock  every  station  in  which  they 
could  in  any  way  exist,  and  that  the  tendency  to  increase 
must  be  checked  by  destruction  at  some  period  of  life. 
Among  our  larger  domestic  animals  we  see  no  great 
destruction  falling  on  them.  We  forget  that  thousands  are 
annually  slaughtered  for  food,  and  that  in  a  natural  state  an 
equal  number  would  have  to  be  disposed  of  in  some  way  or 
other.  Between  organisms  which  annually  produce  seeds  or 
eggs  by  the  thousands,  and  those  which  produce  extremely 
few,  the  only  difference  is  that  the  slow  breeders  would 
require  a  few  more  years  to  people,  under  favorable  con- 
ditions, a  whole  district,  let  it  be  ever  so  large.  But  a  couple 
of  eggs  are  laid  by  the  condor,  while  the  ostrich  lays  a  score. 
Yet  in  the  same  country  the  condor  may  be  the  more  abun- 
dant of  the  two.  The  Fulmer  petrel  lays  but  a  single  egg, 
yet  it  is  believed  to  be  the  most  numerous  bird  in  the  world. 
A  large  number  of  eggs  is  of  some  importance  to  those 
species  which  depend  upon  a  rapidly-fluctuating  quantity  of 
food,  for  it  permits  them  to  increase  rapidly  in  number ;  but 
the  real  importance  of  a  large  number  of  eggs  or  seeds  is  to 
make  up  for  the  great  destruction  that  goes  on  at  some 
period  of  life,  and  this  period  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases 
is  an  early  one.  If  an  animal  can  in  any  way  protect  its 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  43 1 

own  eggs  or  young,  a  small  number  may  be  produced,  and 
the  average  stock  be  kept  up ;  but  if  many  eggs  or  young 
are  destroyed,  then  many  must  be  produced  or  the  species 
will  become  extinct.  Therefore,  the  average  number  of  any 
animal  or  plant  depends,  though  only  indirectly,  upon  the 
number  of  its  eggs  or  seeds.  We  should  never  forget,  in 
taking  a  survey  of  nature,  that  every  single  organic  being 
around  us  may  be  said  to  be  striving  to  the  utmost  to  aug- 
ment its  members ;  that  each  lives  by  a  struggle  at  some 
period  of  its  existence,  and  that  heavy  destruction  falls  either 
on  the  young  or  old  during  each  generation  or  at  recurrent 
intervals.  Let  any  check  be  lightened,  or  the  destruction  be 
mitigated  ever  so  little,  and  the  number  of  the  species  will 
almost  instantaneously  increase  to  any  extent. 

But  of  the  nature  of  the  checks  to  increase  we  know  little, 
although  this  subject  has  been  very  ably  treated  by  writers 
of  eminence.  Eggs  or  very  young  animals  seem  geneially 
to  suffer  the  most,  but  this  is  not  invariably  the  case. 
While  there  is  a  vast  destruction  of  the  seeds  of  plants,  but 
it  is  the  seedlings  which  are  believed  to  suffer  the  greatest, 
from  germinating  in  ground  already  thickly  stocked  with 
other  plants,  and  from  being  destroyed  in  large  numbers  by 
various  enemies.  The  amount  of  food  for  each  species  of 
course  determines  the  extreme  limit  to  which  each  can 
increase,  but  very  often  it  is  not  the  obtaining  of  food,  but  the 
serving  as  prey  to  other  animals  which  fixes  the  average 
number  of  a  species.  Thus  there  seems  to  be  little  doubt 
that  the  stock  of  partridges,  grouse  and  hares  on  any  large 
estate  depends  mainly  on  the  destruction  of  vermin.  Were 
not  a  single  head  of  game  shot  during  the  next  twenty 
years  in  England,  says  Darwin  in  substance,  and  no  ver- 
min were  at  the  same  time  destroyed,  there  would  in 
all  probability  be  less  game  than  at  present  exists,  although 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  game  animals  are  now  annually 
killed  for  the  market.  In  some  cases,  on  the  other  hand, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  elephant,  none  are  destroyed  by 


432  Life  and  Immortality. 

beasts  of  prey,  for  even  the  tiger  in  India,  bold  and 
venturesome  as  he  is  known  to  be,  rarely  dares  to  attack 
a  young  elephant  protected  by  its  mother.  Climate,  also, 
plays  an  important  part  in  determining  the  average  num- 
ber of  a  species,  and  periodical  seasons  of  extreme  cold 
or  drought  are  seemingly  the  most  effective  checks  of  all. 
The  action  of  climate  appears  at  first  sight  to  be  altogether 
independent  of  the  Struggle  for  Existence ;  but  in  so  far  as  it 
chiefly  acts  in  the  reduction  of  food,  it  brings  on  the  most 
severe  struggle  between  the  individuals,  whether  of  the 
same  or  different  species,  which  subsist  on  the  same  kind  of 
fare.  Even  when  climate,  extreme  cold  for  example,  acts 
directly,  it  will  be  the  least  vigorous  animals,  or  those  which 
have  been  the  poorest  fed  through  the  advancing  winter,  that 
will  suffer  the  greatest.  This  will  be  most  readily  seen  from 
what  we  shall  now  relate.  When  we  travel  from  south  to 
north,  or  from  a  damp  region  to  a  dry,  we  invariably  see 
some  species  getting  rarer  and  rarer  by  degrees,  and  finally 
disappearing.  Change  of  climate  being  conspicuous,  we  are 
inclined  to  ascribe  the  entire  effect  to  its  direct  action,  but 
this  is  a  false  interpretation  of  the  phenomenon,  for  we  fail  to 
remember  that  each  species,  even  where  it  most  prevails,  is 
constantly  suffering  enormous  destruction  at  some  period  of 
its  existence,  from  enemies  or  competitors  for  the  same  sta- 
tion and  food ;  and  if  these  enemies  or  competitors  be  the 
least  favored  by  any  slight  change  of  climate,  they  will  neces- 
sarily increase  in  numbers,  while  the  other  species,  each  area 
being  already  stocked  with  inhabitants,  will  correspondingly 
decrease.  And  when  we  travel  southward  and  see  a  species 
decreasing  in  numbers,  we  may  feel  reasonably  sure  that  the 
cause  lies  quite  as  much  in  other  species  being  favored  as  in 
this  being  hurt.  So  it  is  when  we  travel  northward,  though 
in  a  less  degree.  When  we  go  northward,  or  when  we 
ascend  a  mountain,  we  far  oftener  meet  with  stunted  forms, 
due  to  the  directly  injurious  action  of  climate,  than  we  do 
when  we  go  southward  or  descend  a  mountain.  When, 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  433 

however,  we  reach  the  Arctic  regions,  or  explore  snow- 
capped summits,  or  absolute  deserts,  we  perceive  the  struggle 
for  life  to  be  almost  exclusively  with  the  elements.. 

That  climate  operates  mainly,  but  indirectly,  in  favoring 
other  species,  may  be  clearly  seen  in  th'e  prodigious  numbers 
of  garden  plants  that  can  thoroughly  well  endure  our 
climate,  but  which  can  never  become  naturalized,  inasmuch 
as  they  cannot  compete  with  native  vegetation  nor  resist 
destruction  by  native  animals. 

When  a  species,  owing  to  highly  favorable  conditions, 
increases  inordinately  in  numbers  in  a  small  tract  of  country, 
epidemics,  especially  in  game  animals,  often  occur,  and  here 
we  have  a  limiting  check  independent  of  the  Struggle  for 
Existence.  But  some  of  these  so-called  epidemics  appear  to 
be  due  to  parasitic  worms,  which  have  from  some  cause, 
possibly  in  part  through  ease  of  diffusion  among  the  crowded 
animals,  been  disproportionately  favored,  and  here  comes  in 
a  sort  of  struggle  between  the  parasite  and  its  more  illustri- 
ous prey. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  as  is  frequently  the  case,  a  large 
stock  of  individuals  of  the  same  species,  relatively  to  the 
number  of  its  enemies,  is  absolutely  essential  to  its  preserva- 
tion. We  thus  see  how  it  is  possible  to  raise  with  ease  a 
plentiful  supply  of  corn  in  our  fields,  because  the  seeds  are 
greatly  in  excess  of  the  number  of  birds  which  feed  thereon. 
Nor  can  the  birds,  though  blessed  with  a  superabundance  of 
food  at  this  one  season,  increase  in  number  in  proportion  to 
the  supply  of  seed,  as  their  numbers  are  checked  during  the 
winter.  Any  one,  however,  who  has  made  the  experiment, 
knows  how  troublesome  it  is  to  get  seed  from  a  few  wheat  or 
other  such  plants  sown  broad-cast  in  a  garden.  Some 
singular  facts  in  nature,  such  as  that  of  very  rare  plants 
being  sometimes  extremely  abundant  in  the  few  spots  where 
they  do  occur,  and  that  of  some  social  plants  being  social, 
or  abounding  in  individuals,  even  on  the  extreme  confines  of 
their  range,  are  readily  explainable  by  this  view  of  the 


434  Life  and  Immortality. 

necessity  of  a  large  stock  of  the  same  species  for  its  pres- 
ervation, for  in  such  cases  we  may  believe  that  a  plant  could 
only  exist  where  the  conditions  of  its  life  were  so  favorable 
that  many  could  exist  together  and  thus  save  the  species  from 
extinction. 

Complex  and  varied  are  the  checks  and  relations  between 
organic  beings  which  have  to  struggle  together  in  the  same 
country.  In  the  case  of  every  species,  many  different 
checks,  some  very  complicated  and  unintelligible  to  man  at 
present,  acting  at  different  periods  of  life,  and  during  different 
seasons  or  years,  come  into  play,  some  one  check  or  some 
few  being  generally  the  most  powerful,  but  all  concurring 
in  determining  the  average  number  or  even  the  existence 
of  the  species.  Widely-different  checks  sometimes  act  on 
the  same  species  in  different  districts.  Looking  at  the 
plants  and  bushes  that  clothe  an  entangled  bank,  we  are 
tempted  to  ascribe  their  proportional  numbers  and  kinds  to 
what  we  call  chance.  But  this  is  a  very  false  view  to  take 
of  the  matter.  Chance  has  no  part  in  such  things.  They 
follow  in  obedience  to  laws  of  which  we  know  comparatively 
little.  When  an  American  forest  is  cut  down  a  very  different 
vegetation  springs  up.  Ancient  Indian  ruins  have  been 
observed  in  the  southern  parts  of  the  United  States,  which 
must  in  former  times  have  been  cleared  of  trees,  but  which 
now  display  the  same  beautiful  diversity  and  proportion  of 
kinds  as  are  now  found  in  the  surrounding  virgin  forest. 
What  a  struggle  must  have  gone  on  during  long  centuries 
between  the  several  kinds  of  trees,  each  annually  scattering 
its  seeds  by  the  thousand,  and  what  a  war  between  insect 
and  insect,  and  between  insects,  snails  and  other  animals 
with  birds  and  beasts  of  prey,  all  striving  to  increase,  all 
feeding  on  each  other,  or  on  the  trees,  their  seeds  and  their 
seedlings,  or  on  the  other  plants  which  once  clothed  the  soil, 
and  thus  checked  the  growth  of  the  trees  !  It  is  easier  to 
account  for  the  fall  of  an  apple  from  a  tree,  or  the  descent 
of  a  stone  to  the  earth  when  hurled  into  the  air,  than  to 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  435 

account  for  the  action  and  reaction  of  the  innumerable  plants 
and  animals  that  have  determined  in  the  course  of  untold 
centuries  the  proportional  numbers  and  kinds  of  trees  that 
are  now  found  growing  on  these  old  Indian  ruins.  But  the 
struggle  will  almost  invariably  be  the  severest  between 
individuals  of  the  same  species,  for  they  frequent  the  same 
districts,  require  the  same  food  and  are  exposed  to  the  same 
dangers.  In  the  case  of  varieties  of  the  same  species,  the 
struggle  will  generally  be  almost  equally  severe.  If  several 
varieties  of  wheat  be  sown  together,  and  the  mixed  seed  be 
re-sown,  some  of  the  varieties  which  best  suit  the  soil  or 
climate,  or  are  naturally  the  most  fertile,  will  beat  the  others 
and  so  yield  more  seed,  and  will  consequently  in  a  few  years 
supplant  the  others.  Such  extremely-close  varieties  as  the 
variously-colored  sweet-peas  must  be  separately  harvested 
each  year,  and  the  seed  mixed  in  due  proportion,  or  the 
weaker  kinds  will  steadily  decrease  in  number  and  disap- 
pear. So,  again,  with  the  varieties  of  sheep.  Certain 
mountain-varieties  will  starve  out  other  mountain-varieties, 
so  that  they  cannot  be  kept  together.  Similar  results  have 
followed  from  keeping  together  different  varieties  of  the 
medicinal  leech.  In  view  of  all  that  has  been  said,  it  is 
questionable  whether  the  varieties  of  any  of  our  domestic 
plants  and  animals  have  so  exactly  the  same  vigor,  constitu- 
tion and  habits  that  the  original  proportions  of  a  mixed 
stock  could  be  kept  up  for  a  half-dozen  generations  if  they 
were  permitted  to  struggle  together  like  beings  in  a  state  of 
nature,  if  the  seed  or  young  were  not  annually  assorted. 

Species  of  the  same  genus  having  usually,  though  not 
invariably,  much  similarity  in  habits  and  constitution,  and 
always  in  structure,  the  struggle  will  be  more  severe  between 
species  of  the  same  genus,  where  they  come  into  competition 
with  each  other,  than  between  species  of  distinct  genera. 
One  species  of  swallow  has  caused  in  certain  parts  of  the 
United  States  the  decrease  of  another  species,  just  as  the 
missel-thrush  in  parts  of  Scotland  has  caused  the  decrease  of 


436  Life  and  Immortality. 

the  song-thrush.  The  small  Asiatic  cockroach  has  every- 
where in  Russia  driven  before  it  its  great  congener,  and  the 
imported  European  hive-bee  is  rapidly  exterminating  in 
Australia  the  small,  stingless  bee,  indigenous  to  the  country. 
Hundreds  of  such  cases  might  be  cited,  but  we  forbear.  We 
can  clearly  see  why  the  competition  should  be  most  severe 
between  allied  forms,  which  fill  nearly  the  same  place  in  the 
economy  of  nature ;  but  it  is  perhaps  not  possible  to  indi- 
vidualize a  case  and  say  with  preciseness  why  such  species 
has  been  victorious  over  another  in  the  battle  of  life.  That 
the  structure  of  every  organic  being  is  related,  in  the  most 
essential  yet  often  hidden  manner  to  that  of  all  the  other 
organisms  with  which  it  comes  into  competition  for  food  or 
residence,  or  from  which  it  has  to  escape,  or  on  which  it 
preys,  is  a  corollary  of  the  highest  importance  deducible 
from  the  foregoing  remarks.  Very  obvious  is  this  in  the 
structure  of  the  teeth  and  talons  of  the  tiger,  and  in  that  of 
the  legs  and  claws  of  the  parasite  which  clings  to  the  hair  on 
the  tiger's  body.  But  in  the  beautifully-plumed  seed  of  the 
dandelion  and  the  flattened  and  fringed  legs  of  the  water- 
beetle  the  relation  seems  at  first  restricted  to  the  elements  of 
air  and  water,  yet  the  advantage  of  plumed  seeds  undoubt- 
edly stands  in  the  most  intimate  relation  to  the  land,  being 
already  densely  clothed  with  other  plants,  so  that  the  seeds 
may  be  widely  diffused  and  fall  on  unoccupied  ground,  while 
in  the  water-beetle,  the  structure  of  its  legs,  so  admirably 
adapted  for  diving,  allows  it  to  compete  with  other  aquatic 
insects,  to  hunt  for  its  own  prey  and  to  escape  destruction 
by  other  predaceous  animals.  All  organic  beings,  it  will  thus 
be  seen,  are  not  only  striving  to  increase  in  numbers,  but  are 
called  upon  some  time  in  their  lives  to  struggle  for  existence 
or  to  suffer  serious  if  not  utter  destruction.  When  we  reflect 
on  this  struggle,  we  can  console  ourselves  with  the  full  belief 
that  this  war  of  nature  is  not  incessant,  that  no  fear  is  felt, 
that  death  is  generally  sudden,  and  that  the  vigorous,  healthy 
and  happy  survive  and  multiply. 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  437 

Seeing  what  a  potent  influence  the  principle  of  Selection 
has  in  the  hands  of  man,  in  regard  to  variation,  can  it  be 
applied  in  nature  ?  We  can  see  that  it  can  act  most  effect- 
ually. But  in  our  domestic  productions  the  variability  is 
not  directly  produced  by  man,  for  he  can  neither  originate 
varieties  nor  prevent  their  occurrence.  All  he  can  do  is  to 
preserve  and  accumulate  such  as  do  occur.  Unintentionally 
he  exposes  organic  beings  to  new  and  changing  conditions  of 
life,  for  under  domestication,  plant  and  animal  organizations 
become  in  some  degree  plastic,  and  variability  ensues.  Sim- 
ilar changes,  however,  do  occur  in  nature.  When  it  is  borne 
in  mind  how  infinitely  complex  and  close-fitting  are  the  mutual 
relations  of  all  organic  beings  to  each  other,  and  to  their 
environment,  and  consequently  what  infinitely-varied  diver- 
sities of  structure  may  be  of  advantage  to  each  being  under 
altered  conditions,  can  it  then  be  thought  improbable,  seeing 
that  variations  useful  to  man  have  undoubtedly  occurred, 
that  other  variations  useful  in  some  way  to  each  being  in  the 
great  and  complex  battle  of  life  should  sometimes  occur  in 
the  course  of  tens  of  thousands  of  generations  ?  If  such  do 
occur,  can  we  doubt,  when  it  is  remembered  that  many  more 
individuals  are  born  than  can  possibly  survive,  that  individ- 
uals possessing  any  advantage,  no  matter  how  slight,  over 
their  fellows  would  have  the  best  chance  of  surviving  and  of 
procreating  their  kind  ?  Any  variation,  on  the  other  hand, 
we  may  feel  sure  if  in  the  least  degree  injurious  would  be 
rigidly  destroyed.  This  preservation  of  useful  and  favorable 
variations,  and  the  destruction  of  those  that  are  injurious,  is 
called  Natural  Selection,  or  the  Survival  of  the  Fittest. 
Variations  neither  advantageous  nor  deleterious  would  not 
be  affected  by  Natural  Selection,  and  would  be  left  either  a 
fluctuating  element,  as  seen  in  certain  polymorphic  species, 
or  would  alternately  become  fixed,  owing  to  the  nature  both 
of  the  organism  and  its  conditions. 

We  shall  best  understand  the  probable  cause  of  Natural 
Selection  by  taking  a  country  undergoing  some  physical 


43 8  Life  and  Immortality. 

change,  as  of  climate  for  example.  The  proportional  num- 
ber of  its  inhabitants  would  almost  immediately  undergo  a 
change,  and  some  of  its  species  might  become  extinct. 
From  the  complex  and  very  intimate  manner  in  which  the 
inhabitants  of  each  country  are  bound  together,  we  may 
conclude  that  any  change  in  the  numerical  proportion  of 
some  of  its  inhabitants,  independently  of  the  change  of 
climate  itself,  would  seriously  affect  the  others.  Were  the 
country  open  on  its  borders,  new  forms  would  certainly 
immigrate,  and  this,  too,  would  often  seriously  disturb  the 
relations  of  some  of  its  former  inhabitants.  In  the  case, 
however,  of  an  island,  or  a  country  hemmed  in  by  barriers, 
into  which  new  and  better-adapted  forms  could  not  readily 
enter,  we  would  then  meet  with  places  in  the  economy  of 
nature  which  would  assuredly  be  better  filled  up,  if  some  of 
the  original  occupants  were  in  some  manner  modified,  for 
had  the  area  been  open  to  immigration,  these  same  places 
would  have  been  seized  by  intruders.  Thus,  slight  modi- 
fications, which  any  way  favored  the  individuals  of  a  species, 
would  by  better  adapting  them  to  changed  conditions  tend  to 
become  preserved,  and  Natural  Selection  would  there  have 
free  scope  for  the  work  of  improvement.  Changes  in  the 
conditions  of  life  cause  or  excite  a  tendency- to  vary.  In  the 
foregoing  case  the  conditions  are  supposed  to  have  changed, 
and  this  would  manifestly  be  favorable,  by  giving  a  better 
chance  of  profitable  variations  occurring,  to  Natural  Selection, 
for  unless  such  do  occur,  Natural  Selection  can  do  nothing. 
As  man,  by  adding  up  in  any  given  direction  individual  dif- 
ferences, can  certainly  produce  a  great  result  with  his 
domestic  animals  and  plants,  so  could  Natural  Selection,  but 
far  more  easily  from  having  an  incomparably  longer  time  for 
its  action.  No  great  physical  change,  as  of  climate,  nor  any 
unusual  degree  of  isolation  to  check  immigration,  is  actually 
necessary,  it  would  seem,  to  produce  new  and  unoccupied 
places  for  Natural  Selection  to  fill  up  by  modifying  and 
improving  some  of  the  varying  inhabitants,  for  as  all  the 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  439 

inhabitants  of  a  country  are  struggling  together  with  nicely- 
balanced  forces,  extremely-slight  modifications  in  the 
structure  or  habits  of  one  species  would  often  give  it  an 
advantage  over  others ;  and  still  further  modifications,  so 
long  as  the  species  continued  under  the  same  conditions  of 
life  and  profited  by  similar  means  of  subsistence  and  defence, 
would  often  still  further  augment  the  advantage.  No  coun- 
try can  be  mentioned  whose  native  inhabitants  are  now  so 
perfectly  adapted  to  each  other  and  to  their  environment  that 
none  could  be  better  adapted  and  improved,  for  in  all  coun- 
tries the  natives  have  been  so  far  conquered  by  naturalized 
productions  as  to  have  allowed  them  to  take  firm  possession 
of  the  land.  And  as  foreigners  have  thus  in  every  country 
beaten  some  of  the  natives,  it  may  be  safely  concluded  that 
the  latter  might  have  been  modified  with  profit  so  as  to  have 
better  resisted  the  intruders. 

A  man  by  his  methodical  and  unconscious  means  of 
selection  can  produce  and  has  produced  great  results. 
What  may  not  Natural  Selection  effect?  Man  can  only 
operate  on  external  and  visible  characters,  but  nature  cares 
nothing  for  appearances,  except  in  so  far  as  they  are  bene- 
ficial to  any  being.  '  She  can  act  on  every  internal  organ, 
on  every  shade  of  constitutional  difference  and,  in  fine,  on 
the  entire  machinery  of  life.  Man  selects  exclusively  for 
his  own  advantage,  but  nature  solely  for  that  of  the  being 
she  tends,  and  under  her  judicious  selection  the  slightest 
difference  of  structure  or  constitution  may  well  turn  the 
nicely-balanced  scale  in  the  Struggle  for  Existence,  and  thus 
be  preserved.  As  fleeting  as  are  the  wishes  and  efforts  of 
man,  and  as  short  as  is  his  earthly  career,  so  poor,  therefore, 
must  be  the  results  which  he  accomplishes  when  compared 
with  those  accumulated  by  nature  during  whole  geological 
periods.  Is  it  a  wonder,  then,  that  her  productions  should 
be  far  truer  in  character  than  man's,  and  that  they  should  be 
infinitely  better  adapted  to  the  most  complex  conditions  of 
life  and  should  bear  the  stamp  of  far  higher  workmanship  ? 


440  Life  and  Immortality. 

Metaphorically  speaking,  Natural  Selection  may  be  said  to 
be  daily  and  hourly  scrutinizing,  throughout  the  world,  the 
slightest  variations,  rejecting  the  bad,  preserving  and  adding 
up  the  good,  and  silently  and  insensibly  working,  whenever 
and  wherever  opportunities  occur,  at  the  betterment  of  each 
organic  being  in  relation  to  its  organic  and  inorganic  con- 
ditions of  life.  So  slow  is  her  work  that  we  see  nothing  of 
the  changes  in  progress,  and  only  when  the  hand  of  time  has 
marked  the  lapse  of  ages  do  we  perceive  that  changes  have 
been  produced;  but  then  so  imperfect  is  our  view  into  long- 
past  geological  periods,  that  we  see  only  that  the  forms  of 
life  are  now  different  from  what  they  formerly  were.  That 
any  great  amount  of  modification  in  any  point  should  be 
effected,  a  variety  once  formed  must  again,  perhaps  after  a 
long  interval  of  time,  present  individual  differences  of  the 
same  favorable  character,  and  these  must  again  be  preserved, 
and  so  onward  step  by  step.  As  individual  differences  of 
all  kinds  perpetually  recur,  this  can  hardly  be  considered  as 
an  unwarrantable  assumption.  Judged  by  the  extent  the 
hypothesis  accords  with  and  explains  the  general  phenomena 
of  nature,  notwithstanding  the  ordinary  belief  that  the 
amount  of  possible  variation  is  a  strictly-limited  quantity,  we 
are  justified,  it  seems  to  us,  in  assuming  that  all  this  has 
actually  taken  place.  But  in  looking  at  many  small  points 
of  difference  between  species,  which  in  our  ignorance  seem 
quite  unimportant,  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  facts  that 
climate,  food  and  modes  of  life  may  have  produced  some 
direct  effect,  and  also  of  the  truth  that,  owing  to  the  Law 
of  Correlation,  when  one  part  varies,  and  the  variations 
are  accumulated  through  the  Survival  of  the  Fittest,  other 
medications  often  of  the  most  unlooked-for  nature  will 
ensue. 

As  under  domestication  these  variations  are  known  to 
appear  at  a  particular  period  of  life,  and  tend  to  reappear  in 
the  offspring  at  the  same  period,  so,  in  a  state  of  nature,  it  is 
reasonable  to  infer  that  Natural  Selection  will  be  enabled  to 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  44 1 

act  on  and  modify  organic  beings  at  any  age,  by  the  accu- 
mulation of  variations  useful  at  that  age,  and  by  their 
inheritance  at  a  corresponding  age.  Thus,  if  it  be  profitable 
to  a  plant  to  have  its  seeds  more  and  more  widely  dissemi- 
nated by  the  wind,  there  can  be  no  greater  difficulty  in 
conceiving  this  to  be  effected  through  Natural  Selection  than 
in  conceiving  the  increasing  and  improving  of  the  down  in 
the  pods  on  his  cotton-trees  by  a  wise  selection  upon  the 
part  of  a  cotton-planter.  Natural  Selection  may  modify  and 
adapt  the  larva  of  an  insect  to  a  score  of  contingencies, 
wholly  different  from  those  which  affect  the  mature  insect, 
and  these  modifications  through  Correlation  may  work 
changes  in  the  structure  of  the  adult.  On  the  other  hand, 
modifications  of  the  adult  may  affect  the  structure  of  the 
larva,  but  in  all  such  cases  Natural  Selection  will  insure  that 
these  changes  shall  not  be  injurious,  for,  if  they  were  so, 
the  extinction  of  the  species  would  be  the  inevitable  result. 
Thousands  of  instances  might  be  given  to  show  the  influ- 
ence which  Natural  Selection,  or  Sexual  Selection,  which  is 
only  a  less  vigorous  phase  of  the  former,  has  had  all  through 
the  ages  in  the  adaptation  of  life  to  the  places  in  nature 
which  it  was  intended  to  occupy  in  pursuance  of  the 
plan  formulated  by  the  Great  Originator  and  Designer  of 
the  Universe. 

Despite  the  imperfection  of  the  geological  record,  which 
has  been  urged  as  a  serious  objection  to  the  theory  of  descent 
with  modification,  sensible,  intelligent,  educated  men  no  lon- 
ger doubt  that  species  have  all  changed,  and  that  they  have 
changed  in  the  way  required,  for  they  have  changed  slowly 
and  in  a  graduated  manner.  This  is  clearly  seen  in  the  fossil 
remains  from  consecutive  formations  being  invariably  much 
more  closely  allied  to  each  other  than  are  those  from  widely- 
separated  formations.  It  is  true  geological  research  does 
not  yield  those  infinitely  fine  gradations  between  past  and 
present  species  which  the  theory  of  Natural  Selection  requires, 
but  when  it  is  remembered  that  only  a  small  portion  of  the 


442  Life  and  Immortality. 

world  has  been  geologically  explored ;  that  only  organic 
beings  of  certain  classes,  at  least  in  any  great  number,  can  be 
preserved  in  a  fossil  condition ;  that  many  species  when 
once  formed  never  undergo  any  further  change,  but  become 
extinct  without  leaving  any  modified  descendants ;  that  domi- 
nant and  widely-ranging  species  vary  the  most  and  the  most 
frequently,  and  that  varieties  are  often  at  first  only  local,  it 
is  not  at  all  surprising  that  the  discovery  of  intermediate 
links  to  any  considerable  extent  should  not  have  been  made. 
Local  varieties,  as  is  well  known,  will  not  diffuse  themselves 
into  other  and  distant  localities  until  they  have  become 
very  much  modified  and  improved,  and  when  they  have  thus 
diffused  themselves,  and  are  discovered  in  a  geological  forma- 
tion, they  will  appear  as  if  suddenly  created  there,  and  will 
simply  be  ranked  as  new  species.  Besides,  formations  have 
often  been  intermittent  in  their  accumulation,  and  their  dura- 
tion has  probably  been  shorter  than  the  average  duration  of 
specific  forms.  And  as  successive  formations  in  most  cases 
are  separated  from  each  other  by  blank  intervals  of  time  of 
considerable  length,  and  as  fossiliferous  formations  thick 
enough  to  withstand  future  degradation  can  as  a  general 
rule  be  accumulated  only  where  much  sediment  is  laid  down 
in  the  subsiding  bed  of  the  ocean,  it  follows  that  during  the 
alternate  periods  of  elevation  and  of  stationary  level  the 
record  will  generally  be  blank  or  devoid  of  fossil  remains. 
During  these  latter  periods  there  will  doubtless  be  more 
variability  in  the  forms  of  life,  and  during  the  periods  of 
subsidence  a  greater  amount  of  extinction.  Now,  as  geology 
plainly  declares  that  each  land  has  undergone  great  physical 
changes,  we  have  a  right  to  expect  that  organic  beings  have 
varied  under  nature  in  the  same  manner  as  they  have  varied 
under  domestication,  and  such  have  scientific  study  and 
research  found  to  be  the  case.  And  if  there  has  been  any 
variability  under  nature,  such  a  fact  would  seem  unaccount- 
able unless  Natural  Selection,  or  the  Survival  of  the  Fittest, 
did  not  come  into  play.  Upon  the  view  that  variations  have 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  443 

occurred  in  nature  and  have  been  preserved  and  accumulated 
by  Natural  Selection,  and  not  in  the  ordinary  view  of  inde- 
pendent creation,  we  can  understand  why  the  specific  charac- 
ters, or  those  by  which  the  species  of  the  same  genus  differ 
from  each  other,  should  be  more  variable  than  the  generic 
characters  in  which  they  all  agree.  Inexplicable  as  is  the 
occasional  appearance  of  stripes  on  the  shoulders  and  legs  of 
the  different  equine  species  and  their  hybrids  on  the  theory 
of  creation,  yet  how  simply  is  the  fact  explained  if  we  believe 
that  they  are  all  descended  from  a  striped  progenitor  just  as 
the  different  domestic  breeds  of  pigeons  are  descended  from 
the  blue  and  barred  rock-pigeons.  Why,  for  example, 
should  the  color  of  a  flower  be  more  likely  to  vary  in  any 
one  species  of  a  genus,  if  the  other  species,  supposed  to  have 
been  created  independently,  have  differently-colored  flowers, 
than  if  all  the  species  of  the  genus  have  the  same  colored 
flowers  ?  On  the  theory  that  species  are  only  well-marked 
varieties,  of  which  the  characters  have  become  in  a  high 
degree  permanent,  the  fact  is  intelligible,  for  they  have 
already  varied  in  certain  characters  since  they  branched  off 
from  a  common  progenitor,  and  by  these  characters  they 
have  come  to  be  specifically  distinct  from  each  other.  There- 
fore, these  same  characters  would  be  more  likely  again  to 
vary  than  the  generic  characters  which  have  been  inherited 
without  change  for  an  enormous  period  of  time. 

Upon  the  theory  of  Natural  Selection,  or  the  Survival  of 
the  Fittest,  with  its  contingencies  of  extinction  and  diver- 
gence of  character,  we  can  see  how  it  is  that  all  past  and 
present  organic  beings  can  be  arranged  within  a  few  classes, 
in  groups  subordinate  to  groups,  and  with  the  extinct  groups 
often  falling  in  between  the  recent  groups.  We  can  see  how 
it  is  that  the  mutual  affinities  of  the  forms  within  each  class 
are  so  complex  and  diversified,  and  only  adaptive  characters, 
though  of  superior  importance  to  the  beings,  are  of  scarcely 
any  significance  in  classification,  while  those  derived  from 
rudimentary  parts,  though  of  no  recognized  service,  are  often 


444  Life  and  Immortality. 

of  high  classificatory  value,  and  only  embryological  charac- 
ters are  frequently  the  most  valuable  of  all.  The  real  affini- 
ties of  all  organisms,  in  contradistinction  to  their  adaptive 
likenesses,  are  due  to  inheritance  or  community  of  descent. 
Hence,  a  natural  system  of  classification  is  a  genealogical 
arrangement,  with  the  acquired  grades  of  difference,  denoted 
by  varieties,  species,  genera,  families,  etc.,  and  their  lines  of 
descent  have  to  be  discovered  by  the  most  permanent  charac- 
ters, whatever  they  may  be  and  how  little  of  vital  importance 
they  may  possess. 

That  species  are  immutable  productions,  which  was 
until  quite  recently  the  current  belief  by  laymen  and  nat- 
uralists, was  almost  unavoidable  so  long  as  the  world  was 
considered  to  be  of  short  duration.  But  now  that  some  idea 
has  been  acquired  of  the  time  that  has  elapsed  since  the 
beginning  of  earth-life,  we  are  too  apt  to  assume,  without 
proof,  that  the  geologic  record  is  so  complete,  that  it  would 
have  afforded  us  some  plain  evidence  of  the  mutation  of 
species,  if  they  had  undergone  mutation.  But  the  principal 
cause  of  our  unwillingness  to  admit  that  one  species  has 
given  birth  to  other  and  distinct  species,  is  that  we  are 
always  slow  in  admitting  any  great  change  of  which  we  do 
not  discern  the  intermediate  steps.  Just  such  a  difficulty 
was  felt  by  many  geologists  when  Lyell  first  insisted  that 
long  lines  of  inland  cliffs  had  been  produced,  and  great  val- 
leys excavated,  by  the  agencies  which  are  still  at  work  in  the 
earth.  No  effort  of  mind  can  adequately  grasp  the  meaning 
of  even  ten  million  of  years,  nor  add  up  and  perceive  the  full 
effects  of  the  many  slight  variations  to  which  species  have 
been  subjected  during  an  almost  infinite  number  of  genera- 
tions. The  day,  however,  is  not  distant,  when  mankind  will 
have  become  just  as  thoroughly  convinced  that  species  have 
been  modified  during  a  long  course  of  descent,  mainly  through 
the  Natural  Selection  of  innumerous  successive,  slight  and 
favorable  variations  as  they  are  that  the  attraction  of  gravi- 
tation is  an  important  element  in  the  maintenance  of  the 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  445 

harmony  that  exists  among  the  planetary  spheres.  That  the 
law  of  the  attraction  of  gravity,  which  is  perhaps  the  great- 
est discovery  ever  made  by  man,  is  subversive  of  natural  and 
revealed  religion,  which  was  at  one  time  maintained  by  a  no 
more  distinguished  person  than  Leibnitz,  is  now  no  longer 
objected  to,  even  though  its  discoverer  was  unable  to  explain 
what  is  the  essence  of  the  principle  he  had  discovered.  No 
nobler  conception  of  Deity  could  be  entertained  than  that 
which  attributes  to  Him  the  creation  of  a  few  original  forms 
capable  of  self-development  into  other  and  needful  forms, 
or  the  origination  de  novo  of  these  simple  forms  from  inor- 
ganic nature.  It  places  a  higher  estimate  upon  His  Omnip- 
otence than  the  belief  that  He  required  a  fresh  act  of  creation 
to  supply  the  voids  caused  by  the  action  of  His  laws.  That 
science  is  as  yet  unable  to  throw  any  light  on  the  far  higher 
problem  of  the  essence  or  origin  of  life,  should  constitute  no 
valid  objection  to  the  theory  of  descent. 

When  all  beings  are  looked  upon  not  as  special  creations, 
but  as  the  lineal  descendants  of  some  beings  that  existed 
long  before  the  first  bed  of  ancient  Siluria  was  deposited, 
they  seem  to  become  ennobled.  Judging  from  the  past,  we 
think  it  safe  to  conclude  that  no  existing  species  will  trans- 
mit its  unaltered  likeness  to  a  distant  futurity.  Few,  very 
few  living  species  will  transmit  progeny  of  any  kind,  for  the 
manner  in  which  all  organisms  are  grouped  shows  that 
the  majority  of  species  in  each  genus,  and  all  the  species 
in  many  genera,  have  left  no  descendants,  but  have  become 
utterly  extinct.  It  will  only  be  the  common  and  widely- 
spread  species,  belonging  to  the  larger  and  dominant  groups 
within  each  class,  that  will  ultimately  prevail  and  procreate 
new  and  dominant  species.  Since  all  the  living  forms  of  life 
are  the  lineal  descendants  of  forms  that  lived  long  anterior  to 
the  Silurian  epoch,  it  is  reasonably  certain  that  the  ordinary 
succession  by  generation  has  never  once  been  broken,  and 
that  no  cataclysmic  disaster  has  laid  waste  the  entire  world. 
Therefore,  we  may  look  into  the  future  with  some  confidence 


446  Life  and  Immortality. 

of  an  equally  secure  and  inappreciably  enduring  earth-life. 
And  as  Natural  Selection  operates  solely  by  and  for  the  good 
of  each  being,  all  corporeal  and  mental  endowments  will 
tend  to  progress  toward  perfection. 

When  we  contemplate  a  tangled  bank,  with  innumerable 
plants  of  diverse  kinds,  and  many-voiced  birds  singing  in 
concert,  or  waging  destruction  on  manifold  insects  that  are 
flitting  about,  or  the  long,  slimy  worm  that  has  come  up 
from  its  underground  retreat,  we  are  lost  in  wonder  and 
admiration,  and  can  only  reflect  that  these  elaborately  con- 
structed forms,  so  different  from  each  other,  and  so  strangely 
and  intricately  dependent  on  each  other,  have  all  been 
evolved  by  laws  that  act  all  around  us.  These  are  the  laws 
of  Growth  with  Reproduction ;  Inheritance,  which  is  almost 
implied  by  reproduction ;  Variability  from  the  action,  direct 
and  indirect,  of  the  conditions  of  life,  and  from  use  and  dis- 
use ;  a  Ratio  of  Increase  so  high  as  to  lead  to  a  Struggle  for 
Existence,  and  as  a  consequence  to  Natural  Selection,  or  Sur- 
vival of  the  Fittest,  entailing  thereby  Divergence  of  Charac- 
ter and  the  Extinction  of  less-improved  forms.  And  thus, 
from  the  war  of  nature,  and  from  famine  and  death,  have 
arisen  the  higher  mammalia,  in  which  man,  the  summa  sum- 
marum  of  life,  is  included.  He  occupies  the  summit,  toward 
which  the  efforts  of  millions  of  buried  ages  seem  to  have 
been  tending.  There  is  a  grandeur  in  this  view  of  life,  with 
its  several  powers,  originally  breathed,  by  the  operation  of 
the  natural  laws,  into  one  or  a  few  forms  of  life,  and  that, 
while  the  earth,  in  obedience  to  the  fixed  principle  of  gravi- 
tation, has  gone  cycling  on,  endless  forms,  most  beautiful 
and  most  wonderful,  have  been,  and  are  being,  evolved  from 
so  simple  a  beginning. 

While  thus  it  has  been  shown  that  life  has  been  progress- 
ive, successive  forms  of  life  being  the  result  of  modification 
through  descent,  those  faring  the  best  in  the  Struggle  for 
Existence  surviving,  by  reason  of  some  advantage,  physical 
or  otherwise,  gained  over  their  competitors,  yet  little,  bearing 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  447 

specially  upon  man,  has  been  expressed  in  this  chapter. 
After  he  had  acquired  those  intellectual  and  moral  faculties 
which  largely  distinguish  him  from  the  lower  animals  in  a 
state  of  nature,  he  would  have  been  but  little  liable  to  have 
his  bodily  structure  modified  through  Natural  Selection  or 
any  other  means,  for  man  is  enabled,  through  his  mental 
faculties,  "to  keep  with  an  unchanged  body  in  harmony 
with  the  changing  universe."  He  has  a  most  wonderful 
power  of  adapting  his  habits  to  altered  conditions  of  life. 
Tools,  weapons  and  various  devices  are  invented  by  him  for 
the  procurement  of  food  and  bodily  defence.  And  when  he 
migrates  into  a  colder  climate,  he  uses  clothes,  builds  sheds 
and  makes  fire,  and  by  its  aid  cooks  food  that  would  other- 
wise be  indigestible.  The  lower  animals,  however,  must 
have  their  bodily  structure  modified  in  order  to  survive 
under  greatly  changed  conditions.  They  must  be  rendered 
stronger,  or  acquire  more  effective  teeth  or  claws,  or  both, 
if  they  would  successfully  defend  themselves  from  new 
enemies,  or  they  must  be  reduced  in  proportions,  so  as  to 
escape  detection  and  danger.  When  they  remove  into  colder 
climates  they  must  become  clothed  in  thicker  fur,  or  have 
their  constitutions  altered,  for  failure  to  be  thus  modified 
must  ultimately  result  in  their  ceasing  to  exist.  But  in  the 
case  of  man's  intellectual  and  moral  faculties,  as  has  been 
shown  by  Wallace,  it  is  widely  different.  These  faculties 
are  quite  variable,  and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the 
variations  tend  to  be  inherited.  Therefore,  if  they  were 
formerly  of  high  importance  to  palaeolithic  man  and  his  ape- 
like progenitors,  they  would  have  been  perfected  or  advanced 
through  Natural  Selection.  But  of  the  high  importance  of 
the  intellectual  faculties  there  can  be  no  question,  for  man 
owes  to  them  in  a  great  measure  his  preeminent  position  in 
the  world.  It  can  be  seen  that,  in  the  rudest  state  of  society, 
the  individuals  who  were  the  most  sagacious,  and  who  were 
the  most  skilful  in  the  invention  of  weapons  or  traps,  and 
who  were  the  best  able  to  defend  themselves,  would  rear  the 


448 


Life  and  Immortality. 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  449 

greatest  number  of  offspring,  and  that  the  tribes  which 
included  the  largest  number  of  men  possessed  of  such  supe- 
rior endowments  would  increase  in  number  and  eventually 
supplant  the  other  tribes.  Numbers  depend  primarily  on 
the  means  of  subsistence,  and  this  on  the  physical  nature  of 
the  country,  but  in  a  much  higher  degree  upon  the  arts 
therein  practised.  As  a  tribe  increases  and  is  victorious,  it 
is  often  still  further  increased  by  the  absorption  of  other 
tribes,  and  after  a  time  the  tribes  which  are  thus  absorbed 
into  another  tribe  assume,  as  has  been  remarked  by  Mr. 
Maine  in  his  "  Ancient  Law,"  that  they  are  the  co-descend- 
ants of  the  same  ancestors.  Stature  and  strength  in  the 
men  of  a  tribe  are  also  of  importance  in  its  success,  and 
these  are  dependent  in  part  upon  the  character  and  the 
quantity  of  food  that  can  be  obtained.  Men  of  the  Bronze 
Period  in  Europe  were  supplanted  by  a  larger-handed  and 
more  powerful  race,  but  their  success  was  probably  due  in  a 
much  higher  degree  to  their  superiority  in  the  arts.  All 
that  is  known  by  savages,  as  inferred  from  their  traditions 
and  from  old  monuments,  shows  that  from  the  most  remote 
times  successful  tribes  have  supplanted  others.  Relics  of 
extinct  tribes  have  been  found  on  the  wild  plains  of  America 
and  on  the  isolated  islands  in  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Civilized 
nations  are  everywhere  at  the  present  time  supplanting  bar- 
barous peoples,  excepting  where  climate  opposes  a  fatal 
barrier,  and  they  thus  succeed  in  a  great  measure,  though 
not  exclusively,  through  the  arts,  which  are  the  products  of 
the  intellect.  With  mankind,  then,  it  is  highly  probable 
that  the  intellectual  faculties  have  been  gradually  perfected 
through  Natural  Selection.  Undoubtedly  it  would  have 
been  interesting  to  have  traced  the  development  of  each 
separate  faculty  from  the  state  in  which  it  exists  in  the  lower 
animals  to  that  in  which  it  exists  in  man,  but  this  would 
have  been  a  task  of  no  easy  accomplishment.  As  soon, 
however,  as  the  progenitors  of  man  became  social,  and  this 
probably  occurred  at  a  very  early  period,  the  advancement  of 


45 O  Life  and  Immortality. 

the  intellectual  faculties  would  have  been  aided  and  modified 
in  an  important  manner,  for  if  one  man  in  a  tribe,  more  saga- 
cious than  his  fellows,  had  invented  a  new  snare  or  a 
weapon,  or  other  means  of  attack  or  defence,  the  plainest 
self-interest,  with  no  great  help  of  reasoning  power,  would 
have  prompted  the  other  members  to  have  imitated  him, 
and  thus  all  would  have  been  profited.  Habitual  practice  of 
each  new  art  must  likewise  in  some  slight  degree  strengthen 
the  intellect.  If  the  new  invention  were  an  important  one, 
the  tribe  would  increase  in  numbers,  spread  and  supplant 
other  tribes,  and  thus  rendered  stronger  numerically  there 
would  be  a  better  chance  of  the  birth  of  other  superior  and 
inventive  members.  Should  these  last  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
leave  children  to  inherit  their  mental  superiority,  the  chance 
of  the  birth  of  still  more  ingenious  members  would  be  some- 
what better,  and  in  a  very  small  tribe  would  be  decidedly 
better. 

That  primeval  man,  or  his  ape-like  progenitors,  should 
have  become  social,  they  must  have  acquired  the  same 
instinctive  feelings  which  impel  other  animals  to  live  in  a 
body,  and  they  doubtless  exhibited  the  same  general  disposi- 
tion. When  separated  from  their  companions,  for  whom 
they  would  have  felt  some  degree  of  love,  they  would  have 
experienced  a  feeling  of  uneasiness.  They  would  have 
warned  each  other  of  danger,  and  have  given  mutual  aid  in 
attack  or  defence.  All  this  implies  some  degree  of  sym- 
pathy, fidelity  and  courage.  Such  social  qualities,  whose 
paramount  importance  to  the  lower  animals  is  undisputed, 
were  doubtless  acquired  by  the  progenitors  of  men  in  a  simi- 
lar manner,  namely,  through  Natural  Selection,  aided  by 
inherited  habit.  In  the  never-ceasing  wars  of  savages, 
fidelity  and  courage  are  all-important,  and  certainly  when 
two  tribes  of  primeval  man,  living  in  the  same  country,  came 
into  competition,  the  one  that  contained  the  greatest  number 
of  courageous,  sympathetic  and  faithful  members,  who  were 
ever  ready  to  warn  each  other  of  danger,  and  to  assist  and 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  45 1 

defend  each  other,  would  without  doubt  succeed  the  best  and 
conquer  the  other.  The  advantage  which  disciplined  sol- 
diers have  over  undisciplined  hordes  follows  mainly  from  the 
confidence  which  each  soldier  has  in  his  comrades.  Obedi- 
ence is  of  the  highest  importance,  for  any  form  of  government 
is  better  than  none.  Selfish  and  contentious  people  will  not 
cohere,  and  without  coherence  nothing  can  be  effected. 
Thus,  a  tribe  possessing  these  qualities  in  an  eminent  degree 
would  spread  and  be  victorious  over  other  tribes.  But,  in 
the  course  of  events,  or  all  past  history  is  a  myth,  this  suc- 
cessful tribe  would  in  its  turn  be  overcome  by  some  other 
more  highly-endowed  tribe ;  and  thus  would  the  social  and 
moral  qualities  tend  slowly  to  advance  and  be  diffused 
throughout  the  world. 

Praise  and  the  blame  of  our  fellow-men  are  much  more 
powerful  stimuli  to  the  development  of  the  social  qualities. 
These  virtues  are  primarily  due  to  the  instinct  of  sym- 
pathy, and  this  instinct,  like  all  other  social  instincts,  was 
doubtlessly  acquired  through  Natural  Selection.  How  early 
man's  progenitors,  in  the  course  of  their  development,  became 
capable  of  feeling  and  being  impelled  by  the  praise  or  blame 
of  their  fellow-men,  we  are  unable  to  say.  Even  dogs 
appreciate  encouragement,  praise  and  blame,  and  it  would  be 
strange  if  such  could  not  be  predicated  of  beings  higher  in 
the  scale.  The  wildest  savages  feel  the  sentiment  of 
glory.  This  is  clearly  shown  by  their  preservation  of  the 
trophies  of  their  bravery,  by  their  habit  .of  excessive  boast- 
ing, and  even  by  the  extreme  care  they  take  of  their  per- 
sonal appearance  and  adornments.  Unless,  however,  they 
regarded  the  opinion  of  their  comrades,  such  habits  would 
be  without  meaning  and  senseless.  How  far  the  savage  expe- 
riences remorse,  is  doubtful.  He  certainly  feels  shame  and 
contrition  for  the  breach  of  some  of  the  lesser  rules  of  his 
tribe.  It  is  true  that  remorse  is  a  deeply-hidden  feeling, 
but  it  is  hardly  credible  that  a  being  who  will  sacrifice  his 
life  rather  than  betray  his  tribe,  or  give  himself  up  as  a 


452  Life  and  Immortality. 

prisoner  rather  than  violate  his  parole,  would  not  feel  re- 
morse, though  he  might,  if  he  failed  in  .a  duty  which  he 
held  sacred,  hide  it  from  view. 

Primeval  man  must  have  been,  at  a  very  remote  time,  influ- 
enced by  the  praise  and  blame  of  his  fellows.  That  the 
members  of  the  same  tribe  would  approve  of  conduct  that 
appeared  for  the  general  good,  and  reprobate  such  as  seemed 
to  carry  with  it  evil,  there  can  be  no  question.  To  do  good 
unto  others,  or  to  do  unto  others  as  you  would  that  they 
should  do  unto  you,  is  the  foundation-stone  of  morality.  It 
is,  therefore,  hardly  possible  to  place  too  high  an  estimate 
upon  the  importance  of  the  love  of  praise  and  fear  of  blame 
during  rude,  barbaric  times,  for  a  man,  who  was  not  impelled 
by  any  profound  instinctive  feeling  to  sacrifice  his  life  for  the 
good  of  others,  but  who  was  raised  to  such  a  noble  action 
by  a  sense  of  glory,  would  by  his  example  excite  a  similar 
wish  for  glory  in  the  bosoms  of  other  men,  and  would 
thereby  engender  and  strengthen  by  exercise  the  laudable 
feeling  of  admiration.  With  increased  experience  and  rea- 
son, those  more  remote  consequences  of  his  actions,  such  as 
temperance,  chastity,  etc.,  which  during  his  very  early  times 
were  utterly  disregarded,  would  come  to  be  highly  esteemed 
or.  even  held  sacred.  And  ultimately  there  would  have  been 
developed  from  the  social  instincts  a  highly-complex  senti- 
ment which,  largely  guided  by  the  approbation  of  his 
fellow-men,  and  ruled  by  reason,  self-interest,  and  latterly 
by  deep  religious  feelings,  confirmed  by  teaching  and  habit, 
would  constitute  his  moral  sense  or  conscience.  Although 
a  high  standard  of  morality  gives  but  little  if  any  advantage 
to  each  individual  man  and  his  children  over  the  other  men 
of  the  same  tribe,  yet  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  it  is  an 
advancement  in  the  standard  of  morality  and  an  increase  in 
the  number  of  well-endowed  men  that  certainly  give  a  telling 
advantage  to  a  tribe  over  another,  for  the  tribe  that  includes 
many  members  who,  from  possessing  in  an  eminent  degree 
the  spirit  of  patriotism,  fidelity,  obedience,  courage  and 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  453 

sympathy,  and  who  were  always  prepared  to  give  aid  to  each 
other,  and  to  sacrifice  themselves  for  the  common  weal, 
would  be  victorious  over  most  other  tribes.  And  this  would 
be  Natural  Selection.  Tribes  at  all  times  throughout  the 
world  have  supplanted  other  tribes.  Now,  as  morality  is 
one  element  in  their  success,  the  standard  of  morality  and 
the  number  of  well-endowed  men  will  thus  everywhere  tend 
to  rise  and  increase. 

Very  difficult  it  is  to  form  any  judgment  why  one  particu- 
lar tribe  and  not  another  has  been  successful  in  the  Struggle 
for  Existence  and  has  risen  in  the  scale  of  civilization.  Many 
savages  are  still  in  the  same  condition  of  degradation  as 
when  first  discovered.  The  greatest  part  of  mankind  has 
never  evinced  the  slightest  desire  that  their  civil  institutions 
should  be  improved.  Progress  is  not,  as  we  are  apt  to  con- 
sider, the  normal  rule  in  human  society.  Many  concurrent 
favorable  conditions,  far  too  complex  to  be  followed  out, 
seem  to  determine  human  progress.  A  cool  climate,  it  has 
been  remarked,  by  leading  to  industry  and  the  various  arts, 
has  been  indispensable  thereto,  but  if  the  climate  has  been 
too  severe,  as  in  the  Arctic  regions,  there  is  a  check  to  con- 
tinual progress.  Pressed  by  hard  necessity,  the  Esquimaux 
have  succeeded  in  many  ingenious  inventions,  but  they  can 
never  attain,  for  the  reason  already  assigned,  to  any  very 
great  success.  Nomadic  habits,  whether  along  the  shores 
of  the  sea,  or  over  wide  plains,  or  through  dense  tropical 
forests,  have  in  all  cases  proved  detrimental.  Perhaps,  the 
possession  of  some  property,  a  fixed  abode,  and  the  union  of 
many  families  under  a  leader  or  chief,  are  indispensable  requi- 
sites for  civilization,  as  such  habits  almost  necessitate  the 
cultivation  of  the  ground.  From  some  such  accident  as  the 
falling  of  the  seeds  of  a  fruit-tree  on  a  heap  of  refuse  and  pro- 
ducing an  unusually  fine  variety  may  probably  have  resulted 
the  first  steps  in  cultivation,  for  if  the  fruit  were  profitable 
and  good  for  food,  it  would  be  a  very  dull  intellect  that  could 
not  readily  perceive,  especially  among  a  people  that  had 


454  Ltfe  and  Immortality. 

given  up  a  roving  habit  of  life,  the  advantage  which  would 
accrue  from  the  planting  of  some  more  trees  of  a  similar 
kind.  They  would  undoubtedly  be  led  to  cultivation  for 
themselves  by  a  simple  observation  of  the  plan  by  which 
nature  contrives  in  keeping  up  a  continuation  of  her  many 
kinds  of  plants.  Instead  of  dropping  the  seeds  upon  the 
ground  as  nature  is  prone  to  do,  and  trusting  to  their  burial 
by  accident  or  otherwise,  seeing  the  advantage  to  be  gained 
by  burying  them  out  of  the  reach  of  noxious  influences, 
whether  of  climate  or  animal  life,  they  would  soon  learn  to 
take  the  matter  of  planting  under  their  own  watchful  care 
rather  than  leave  it  to  the  seemingly  thoughtless  provision 
of  nature.  But  the  problem  of  the  first  advance  of  palaeo- 
lithic man  toward  civilization,  is  at  present  much  too  difficult 
to  be  solved,  for  it  involves  the  consideration  of  certain  ele- 
ments which  we  know  too  little  about,  and  their  disentangle- 
ment from  others  whose  value  is  of  recognized  significance 
in  the  domain  of  biological  science. 

While  it  has  been  shown  how  it  has  been  possible  for  pri- 
meval man  to  have  acquired  a  moral  sense  or  conscience,  yet 
it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  lower  animals,  at  least  such 
as  have  come  under  the  civilizing  influence  of  man,  have 
also  come  into  possession  of  the  same  highly  complex  senti- 
ment which  has  been  of  such  inestimable  service  to  man  for 
his  progressive  advancement.  Other  faculties,  such  as  the 
powers  of  imagination,  wonder,  curiosity,  an  undefined 
sense  of  beauty,  a  tendency  to  imitation,  and  the  love  of 
excitement  or  novelty,  have  also  been  of  immense  impor- 
tance in  this  direction,  for  they  could  not  fail  to  have  led  to 
the  most  capricious  changes  of  customs  and  fashions. 
Caprice,  it  has  been  rather  oddly  claimed  by  a  recent  writer, 
is  "  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  typical  differences 
between  savages  and  brutes."  It  is  not  only  possible  to 
perceive  how  it  is  that  man  is  capricious,  but  the  lower  ani- 
mals, as  has  been  previously  shown,  are  capricious  in  their 
affections,  aversions  and  sense  of  beauty.  And  there  is  good 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  45  5 

reason  to  suspect  that  they  love  novelty  for  its  own  sake. 
Self-consciousness,  individuality,  abstraction,  general  ideas, 
etc.,  which  have  been  held  by  several  recent  writers  as  mak- 
ing the  sole  and  complete  distinction  between  man  and  the 
brutes,  seem  useless  subjects  for  discussion,  since  hardly  any 
two  authors  agree  in  their  definitions  of  these  high  faculties. 
In  man,  such  faculties  could  not  have  been  fully  developed 
until  his  mental  powers  had  advanced  to  a  high  state  of  per- 
fection, and  this  implies  the  use  of  a  highly-developed  lan- 
guage. No  one  supposes  that  one  of  the  Blower  animals 
reflects  whence  he  comes  or  whither  he  goes,  or  what  is 
death  or  what  is  life,  but  can  one  feel  sure  that  an  old  dog 
with  an  excellent  memory,  and  some  power  of  imagination 
as  shown  by  his  dreams,  never  reflects  on  his  past  pleasures 
in  the  chase  ?  And  this  would  be  a  form  of  self-conscious- 
ness. On  the  contrary,  as  Buchner  ably  remarks,  how  little 
can  the  hard-worked  wife  of  an  Australian  savage  who 
scarcely  uses  any  abstract  words  and  whose  ability  to  count 
does  not  extend  beyond  four,  exert  her  self-consciousness,  or 
reflect  on  the  origin,  nature  and  aim  of  her  own  existence. 
That  animals  retain  their  mental  individuality  is  unquestioned, 
for  when  any  voice  awakens,  a  train  of  old  associations  in 
the  mind  of  some  favorite  dog,  as  in  the  case  of  my  dog 
Frisky,  already  referred  to,  he  must  have  retained  his  mental 
individuality,  although  every  atom  of  his  brain  had  probably 
undergone  change  more  than  once  during  the  five  or  six 
years  he  lived  in  my  famiiy.  Animals  have  some  ideas  of 
numbers.  The  crow  has  been  known  to  count  as  far  as  the 
number  six,  and  a  dog  I  once  had  knew  as  well  as  I  did 
when  Saturday  came.  The  sense  of  beauty,  which  has 
been  declared  peculiar  to  man,  is  innate  in  birds.  Certain 
bright  colors  and  certain  sounds,  when  in  harmony,  excite  in 
them  pleasure  as  they  do  in  man.  The  taste  for  the  beauti- 
ful, at  least  so  far  as  female  beauty  is  concerned,  is  not  of  a 
special  nature  in  the  human  mind,  for  it  differs  widely  in  the 
different  races  of  man,  and  is  not  quite  the  same  even  in  the 


45 6  Life  and  Immortality. 

different  nations  of  the  same  race.  If  we  are  to  judge  from 
the  hideous  ornaments  and  the  equally  hideous  music  admired 
by  most  savages,  it  might  be  urged  that  their  aesthetic  faculty 
was  less  highly  developed  than  it  is  in  some  species  of  birds. 
No  animal,  it  is  obvious,  would  be  capable  of  admiring  the 
nocturnal  heaven,  a  beautiful  landscape,  or  refined  music. 
And  this  should  not  be  wondered  at,  for  such  high  tastes, 
dependent  as  they  are  upon  culture  and  complex  associa- 
tions, are  not  even  enjoyed  by  barbarous  or  by  uneducated 
persons. 

Seeing  that  man  in  a  state  of  nature  has  no  preeminence 
above  the  lower  animals  so  far  as  his  mental  and  moral 
qualities  are  concerned,  and  in  many  instances  ranks  far 
below  the  so-called  brute,  let  us  examine  for  a  short  time  his 
religious  nature.  No  evidence  exists  to  show  that  man  was 
aboriginally  endowed  with  the  ennobling  belief  in  the  exist- 
ence of  an  Omnipotent  God.  On  the  contrary,  ample  evi- 
dence, not  from  hasty  travellers,  but  from  men  who  have  long 
resided  with  savages,  can  be  adduced  to  show  that  numerous 
races  have  existed,  and  still  exist,  who  have  no  idea  of  one 
or  more  gods,  and  who  have  no  words  in  their  languages  to 
express  such  an  idea.  If  under  the  term  religion  is  included 
the  belief  in  unseen  or  spiritual  agencies,  the  case  is  entirely 
different,  for  this  belief  seems  to  be  almost  universal  with 
the  less  civilized  races.  Nor  is  it  difficult  to  understand 
how  it  originated.  With  the  development  of  the  imagina- 
tion, wonder  and  curiosity,  and  of  a  moderate  power  of  rea- 
soning, man  would  naturally  have  craved  to  understand  what 
was  going  on  around  him,  and  even  have  vaguely  speculated 
on  his  own  existence.  According  to  McLennan  man  must, 
in  his  efforts  to  arrive  at  some  explanation  of  the  phenomena 
of  life,  feign  for  himself.  Judging  from  the  universality  of 
this  life,  the  same  author  remarks  that  "  the  simplest 
hypothesis,  and  the  first  to  occur  to  men,  seems  to  have 
been  that  natural  phenomena  are  ascribable  to  the  presence 
in  animals,  plants  and  things,  and  in  the  forces  of  nature,  of 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  457 

such  spirits  prompting  to  action  as  men  are  conscious  they 
themselves  possess."  Probably,  as  has  been  clearly  shown 
by  Tyler,  dreams  may  have  first  given  rise  to  the  notion  of 
spirits.  Savages  do  not  readily  discriminate  between  sub- 
jective and  objective  phenomena.  When  a  savage  dreams, 
the  figures  which  appear  in  his  vision  are  believed  to  have 
come  from  a  distance  and  to  stand  over  him,  or  the  soul  of 
the  dreamer  goes  out  on  a  journey  and  returns  with  a 
remembrance  of  what  has  been  seen.  That  tendency  in 
savages  to  imagine  that  natural  objects  and  agencies  are 
animated  by  living  or  spiritual  beings  may  be  illustrated  by 
a  little  fact  which  I  have  frequently  noticed.  Standing  on 
the  corner  of  a  street,  waiting  for  a  closed  snow-sweeper, 
which  was  driven  by  electricity,  to  pass,  my  attention  was 
directed  to  a  young  horse  that  was  geared  to  a  hansom.  The 
horse  was  at  rest,  and  its  driver,  evidently  awaiting  some 
one,  sat  upon  the  box.  Upon  the  appearance  of  the  sweeper 
the  horse  reared,  turned  his  face  directly  toward  the  object 
of  his  fear,  pawed  the  pavement  in  the  most  impatient  man- 
ner possible,  and  then  looked  wistfully  and  pleadingly  at  his 
master,  as  though  imploring  protection  from  some  fearful 
and  gigantic  monster.  Another  sweeper  passed  while  I  was 
still  in  waiting,  and  the  poor  animal  went  through  the  same 
trying  and  fearful  ordeal  as  before.  He  must,  I  think, 
have  reasoned  in  a  rapid  and  unconscious  manner,  that 
movement  without  any  apparent  cause  indicated  the  presence 
of  some  strange  living  agent,  which  was  about  to  do  him 
some  serious  physical  harm.  Belief  in  spiritual  agencies 
would  thus  easily  pass  into  a  belief  in  the  existence  of  one 
or  more  gods,  for  savages  would  naturally  ascribe  to  spirits 
the  same  passions,  the  same  line  of  vengeance  or  simple 
form  of  justice,  and  the  same  affections  which  they  them- 
selves experienced. 

Religious  devotion  is  a  highly  complex  feeling.  Love, 
complete  submission  to  an  exalted  and  mysterious  superior, 
a  strong  sense  of  dependence,  fear,  reverence,  gratitude,  hope 


45  8  Life  and  Immortality. 

for  the  future  and  other  elements  enter  into  its  composition. 
No  being  could  experience  so  complex  an  emotion  unless 
his  intellectual  and  moral  faculties  had  attained  a  moderately 
high  level.  Some  approach  to  this  high  state  of  mind  is 
visible  in  the  profound  love  of  a  dog  for  his  master,  for  it  is 
associated  with  complete  submission,  some  fear,  reverence, 
gratitude  and  perhaps  other  feelings.  A  dog's  behavior 
towards  his  master,  after  a  long  absence,  is  widely  different 
from  that  which  he  shows  towards  his  fellows,  for  his  trans- 
ports of  joy  in  the  latter  case  are  less  intense,  and  his  every 
action  savors  of  a  mere  sense  of  equality.  But  upon  his 
master,  as  Prof.  Braubach  goes  so  far  as  to  maintain,  he 
looks  as  on  a  god. 

These  high  mental  faculties,  which  first  led  man  to  believe 
in  unseen  spiritual  agencies,  and  subsequently  in  fetishism, 
polytheism  and  monotheism,  would  infallibly  lead  him,  as 
long  as  his  reasoning  powers  remained  at  a  very  low  level, 
to  various  strange  supersititions  and  customs,  many  of  which, 
such  as  the  sacrifice  of  human  beings  to  a  blood-loving  god 
and  the  trial  of  innocent  persons  by  the  ordeal  of  poison  or 
fire,  are  too  terrible  to  contemplate.  It  is  well,  however,  to 
reflect  occasionally  on  these  superstitions,  for  they  show  us 
what  an  infinite  debt  of  gratitude  we  owe  to  improved  reason, 
science  and  accumulated  knowledge.  How  much  better  is 
the  life  of  civilized  man  than  that  of  the  savage,  for  as  Lub- 
bock  has  well  remarked,  "  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the 
horrible  dread  of  unknown  evil  hangs  like  a  thick  cloud 
over  savage  life,  and  embitters  every  pleasure." 

From  the  opinions  advanced,  it  is  evident  that  the  belief 
in  God  has  been  the  ultimate  outcome  of  belief  in  unseen 
spiritual  agencies.  There  has  been  a  gradual  leading  up 
through  fetishism  and  polytheism  to  monotheism.  If  relig- 
ion implies  belief  in  unseen  agencies,  as  well  as  belief  in  a 
personal  agency  in  the  universe  strong  enough  to  influence 
conduct  in  any  degree,  then  it  is  obvious  that  there  has 
been  a  progressive  advancement  in  religious  thought,  each 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  459 

succeeding  form  of  religion  by  its  superior  advantages  over 
its  predecessor  tending  to  supplant  it  wherever  and  whenever 
its  beneficent  influences  are  felt.  It  is  true  that  fetishism 
and  polytheism  still  prevail  among  rude,  uncultured  peo- 
ples, as  well  as  the  worship  of  false  deities  and  prophets,  but 
with  the  spread  of  the  civilizing  and  elevating  influence  of 
Christianity  these  religions  in  the  fitness  of  time  will  disap- 
pear. Christianity,  from  its  foundation  in  Judaism,  has 
throughout  been  a  religion  of  sacrifice  and  sorrow.  It  has 
been  a  religion  of  blood  and  tears,  and  yet  one  of  profound- 
est  happiness  to  its  votaries.  While  fakirs  hang  on  hooks, 
and  pagans  cut  themselves  and  even  their  children,  for  the 
sake  of  propitiating  diabolical  deities,  yet  Christianity,  which 
has  its  roots  in  Judaism,  has  no  need  for  such  practices.  It 
is  par  excellence  the  religion  of  sorrow,  because  it  reaches  to 
truer  and  deeper  levels  of  our  spiritual  nature,  and  therefore 
has  capabilities  both  of  sorrow  and  joy  which  are  presum- 
ably non-existent  except  in  civilized  man.  They  are  the 
sorrows  and  joys  which  arise  from  the  fully-developed  con- 
sciousness of  sin  against  a  God  of  Love,  as  distinguished 
from  propitiation  of  malignant  spirits.  These  joys  and  sor- 
rows are  wholly  spiritual,  not  merely  physical.  "  Thou 
desirest  no  sacrifice."  God's  only  sacrifice  at  the  hands  of 
sinful  man  is  a  troubled  spirit. 

Estimated  by  the  influence  which  He  has  exerted  on  man- 
kind, there  can  be  no  question,  even  from  a  secular  point  of 
view,  that  Christ  is  much  the  greatest  man  who  has  ever 
lived.  That  the  revolution  which  His  teachings  have  effected 
in  human  life  is  immeasurable  and  unparalleled  by  any  other 
movement  in  history  is  unquestioned.  Though  most  nearly 
approached  by  the  religion  of  the  Jews,  of  which  it  is  a 
development,  so  that  it  may  be  regarded  as  of  a  piece  with 
it,  it  is  evident  that  this  whole  system  of  religion  is  so 
immeasurably  in  advance  of  all  others  that  it  may  be  truth- 
fully said,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  Jews,  the  human  race 
would  have  had  no  religion  worthy  of  serious  consideration. 


460  Life  and  Immortality. 

Had  it  not  been  for  this  religion  man's  spiritual  side  would 
not  have  been  developed  in  civilized  life.  And  although 
there  are  numberless  individuals  who  are  all  unconscious  of 
its  development  in  themselves,  yet  these  have  been  influenced 
to  an  enormous  extent  by  the  religious  atmosphere  by  which 
they  are  surrounded. 

Not  only  is  Christianity  so  immeasurably  in  advance  of 
all  other  religions,  but  it  is  no  less  of  every  other  system  of 
thought  that  has  ever  been  promulgated  in  regard  to  what  is 
moral  and  spiritual.  Neither  philosophy,  science  nor  poetry 
has  ever  produced  results  in  thought,  conduct  or  beauty  in 
any  degree  comparable  with  it.  What  has  science  or  phi- 
losophy done  for  the  thought  of  mankind  compared  with 
what  has  been  done  by  the  single  doctrine,  "  God  is  love?" 
The  Story  of  the  Cross,  from  its  commencement  in  prophetic 
aspiration  to  its  culmination  in  the  Gospel,  is  preeminently 
the  most  magnificent  presentation  in  literature.  Only  to  a 
man  wholly  destitute  of  religious  perception  can  Christianity 
fail  to  appear  the  greatest  exhibition  of  the  beautiful,  the  sub- 
lime, and  of  all  else  that  appeals  to  our  spiritual  nature, 
which  has  ever  been  known  upon  the  earth.  It  is  not  only 
adapted  to  men  of  the  highest  culture,  but  the  most  remarka- 
ble thing  about  it  is  its  perfect  adaptation  to  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men.  Its  problems,  historical  and  philosophical, 
open  up  to  you  worlds  of  material,  over  which  you  may 
spend  your  life  with  the  same  interminable  interest  as  the 
student  meets  in  the  fields  of  natural  science. 

Whatever  our  theory  of  the  origin  of  man,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  we  all  feel  that  his  intellectual  part  is  higher 
than  the  animal ;  and  that  the  moral  is  higher  than  the  intel- 
lectual, whatever  our  theory  of  either  may  be ;  and  that  the 
spiritual  is  higher  than  the  moral,  whatever  our  theory  of 
religion  may  be.  It  is  what  is  understood  by  his  moral,  and 
still  more  by  his  spiritual  qualities,  that  make  up  what  is 
called  his  character,  and,  astonishing  to  say,  it  is  character 
that  tells. in  the  long  run.  Morality  and  spirituality  are  two 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  46 1 

different  things,  for  a  man  may  be  highly  moral  in  conduct 
without  being  in  any  degree  spiritual  in  nature,  and  the 
reverse,  though  to  a  less  extent.  Objectively,  the  same  dis- 
tinction subsists  between  morals  and  religion.  Intellectual 
pleasures  are  more  satisfying  and  enduring  than  sensual,  or 
even  sensuous  ;  and  spiritual,  to  those  who  have  experienced 
them,  than  intellectual,  an  objective  fact,  abundantly  testified 
to  by  *hose  who  have  had  experience,  which  seems  to  indi- 
cate that  the  spiritual  nature  of  man  is  the  highest  part  of 
man — the  culminating  point  of  his  being.  That  there  will 
always  be  materialists  and  spiritualists,  as  Renan  says,  is 
probably  true,  inasmuch  as  it  will  always  be  observable  on 
the  one  hand  that  there  is  no  thought  without  brain,  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  instincts  of  man  will  always  aspire  to 
higher  beliefs.  If  religion  is  true,  and  life  is  a  state  of  pro- 
bation, this  is  just  what  ought  to  be.  It  is  not  probable  that 
the  materialistic  position,  which  is  discredited  even  by  phi- 
losophy, is  due  simply  to  custom  and  a  want  of  imagination. 
Else  why  the  inextinguishable  instincts  which  we  have  thus 
shown  to  exist  ? 

Evolution,  not  only  of  the  earth,  but  of  its  organic  ma- 
chinery, by  natural  causes,  is  now  no  longer  doubted.  That  this 
has  taken  place  by  degrees  is  equally  unquestioned.  Now,  if 
there  is  a  Deity,  the  fact  is  certainly  of  the  nature  of  a  first  prin- 
ciple, and  it  must  be  first  of  all  first  principles.  No  one  can  dis- 
pute this,  nor  can  any  one  dispute  the  necessary  conclusion 
that,  if  there  be  a  Deity,  he  is  knowable,  if  knowable  at  all,  by 
intuition  and  not  by  reason.  From  its  very  nature,  as  a 
little  thought  is  sufficient  to  show,  reason  is  utterly  incapa- 
ble of  adjudicating  on  the  subject,  for  it  is  a  process  of 
inferring  from  the  known  to  the  unknown.  It  would  be 
against  reason  itself  to  suppose  that  Deity,  even  if  He  exists, 
can  be  known  by  .reason.  He  must  be  known,  if  knowable 
at  all,  by  intuition.  If  there  is  a  Deity,  then  it  seems  to  be 
in  some  indefinite  degree  more  probable  that  He  should  im- 
part a  Revelation  than  that  He  should  not  have  done  so.  As 


462 


Life  and  Immortality, 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  463 

a  mere  matter  of  evidence,  a  sudden  revelation  might  be 
much  more  convincing  than  a  gradual  one,  but  it  would  be 
quite  out  of  analogy  with  causation  in  nature.  Besides, 
a  gradual  one  might  be  given  easily,  and  of  demonstrative 
value,  as  by  making  prophecies  of  historical  events,  scien- 
tific discoveries  and  other  things  so  clear  as  to  be  unmis- 
takable. But  a  demonstrative  revelation  has  not  been  made, 
and  there  may  well  be  good  reasons  why  it  should  not  have 
been  made.  If  there  are  such  reasons,  as,  for  example,  our 
state  of  probation,  we  can  well  see  "  that  the  gradual  unfold- 
ing of  a  plan  of  revelation,  from  earliest  dawn  of  history  to 
the  end  of  the  world,  is  much  preferable  to  a  sudden  mani- 
festation sufficiently  late  in  the  world's  history  to  be  histor- 
ically attested  for  all  subsequent  time."  Gradual  evolution, 
as  has  been  said  before,  is  in  analogy  with  God's  other  work. 
If  Revelation  has  been  of  a  progressive  character,  then  it 
follows  that  it  must  have  been  so  not  only  historically,  but 
intellectually,  morally  and  spiritually,  for  in  such  sequence 
could  it  be  always  adapted  to  the  advancing  conditions  of  the 
human  race. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  all  through  the  ages  some  mighty 
influence  has  been  at  work,  directly  or  indirectly,  in  prepar- 
ing this  earth  by  slow  and  gradual  changes  for  a  steadily 
progressive  succession  of  vegetable  and  animal  life.  That  life 
best  fitted  to  meet  new  and  changing  conditions  of  environ- 
ment being  preserved  by  a  process  of  natural  selection. 
And  from  a  few  primordial  types,  far  simpler  than  the  lowest 
of  existing  structureless  moners,  or  from  some  living  proto- 
plasmic mass,  elaborated  by  some  form  of  energy  acting 
upon  inorganic  nature,  there  have  been  evolved  in  the  mil- 
lions of  years  of  earth-life  our  existing  flora  and  fauna. 
Man,  the  pinnacle  of  animal  life,  has  come  up  through  the 
life  that  preceded  him,  and  bears  in  the  history  of  his  devel- 
opment from  the  ovum  to  the  adult  state  the  line  of  his 
descent.  Not  only  has  his  physical  nature  been  evolved 
through  the  action  of  natural  laws  impressed  upon  living 


464  Life  and  Immortality. 

matter  by  Deity,  but  that  subtle  principle,  termed  mind, 
which  has  attained  such  a  wonderful  growth  in  his  civilized 
condition,  is  but  the  outcome  of  the  mind  of  a  long  line  of 
life  antecedent  to  his  appearance  on  the  globe.  His  moral 
nature  was  similarly  acquired,  and  most  probably  in  the 
manner  already  explained.  Palaeolithic  man,  like  the  Aus- 
tralian of  to-day,  was,  as  has  been  shown,  but  little  superior  in 
intelligence  to  some  of  the  animals  with  whom  he  was  con- 
temporaneous. He  lived  the  life  of  the  mere  animal,  and  as 
an  animal  could  be  said  to  have  had  no  preeminence  above 
a  beast.  Like  the  latter,  he  was  a  living,  breathing  frame,  or 
body  of  life;  a  living,  but  not  an  everliving,  soul.  In  time, 
as  conditions  became  favorable,  he  passed  into  the  moral 
stage  of  his  being,  but  not  without  increased  intellectuality, 
and  would  thus  have  continued,  but  going  on  and  adding  to 
his  mental  and  moral  possessions,  had  not  Deity,  in  the 
fitness  of  time,  prepared  the  way  through  Christ,  whereby 
his  corruptible  nature  should  be  made  incorruptible  and 
immortal.  Unless  man  is  "  born  of  the  spirit "  he  cannot 
inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.  He  must  be  "  changed  into 
spirit,"  put  on  incorruptibility  and  immortality  of  body,  or 
he  will  be  physically  incapable  of  retaining  the  honor,  glory 
and  power  of  the  kingdom  forever,  or  even  during  Christ's 
reign  of  a  thousand  years  upon  earth. 

That  there  is  a  distinction  between  a  living  soul  and  a  spirit- 
ual body  cannot  be  questioned.  Speaking  about  body,  the 
apostle  Paul  says,  "  there  is  a  natural  body,  and  there  is  a 
spiritual  body,  but  he  does  not  content  himself  with  simply 
declaring  this  truth,  but  goes  further  and  proves  it  by  quot- 
ing the  language  of  Moses,  saying,  "  for  so  it  is  written,  the 
first  man  Adam  was  made  into  a  living  soul;"  and  then 
adding,  "  the  last  Adam  into  a  spirit  giving  life."  And  in 
another  place,  speaking  of  the  latter,  he  says  of  Him,  "  now 
the  Lord  is  the  spirit.  And  we  all,  with  unveiled  face, 
beholding  as  in  a  mirror,  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  are  changed 
into  His  image  from  glory  into  glory,  as  by  the  Lord  the 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  465 

Spirit!'  Therefore,  the  proof  of  the  apostle's  proposition, 
that  there  is  a  natural  body^  as  distinct  from  a  spiritual  body, 
lies  in  the  testimony  that  "Adam  was  made  into  a  living 
soul,  showing  that  he  considered  a  natural,  or  animal  body, 
and  a  living  soul,  as  one  and  the  same  thing.  If  he  did  not, 
then  there  was  no  proof  in  the  quotation  of  what  he 
affirmed.  Mortality,  then,  is  life  manifested  through  a  cor- 
ruptible body,  and  immortality  is  life  manifested  through  an 
incorruptible  body.  Hence,  the  necessity  laid  down  in  the 
saying  of  the  apostle,  "  this  corruptible  body  must  put  on 
incorruption,  and  this  mortal  put  on  immortality,"  before 
death  can  be  "swallowed  up  in  victory," — a  doctrine  of  "  life 
and  incorruptibility  "  that  was  new  to  the  Greeks  and  Romans, 
and  brought  to  light  only  through  the  gospel  of  the  kingdom 
and  name  of  Jesus  Christ.  To  them  it  was  foolishness,  and  to 
many  at  the  present  day  incredible,  because  they  do  not 
understand  the  glad  tidings  of  the  age  to  come.  God  could 
have  created  all  things  upon  a  spiritual  or  incorruptible  basis 
at  once,  but  in  that  case  the  globe  would  have  been  filled 
with  men  and  women  equal  to  the  angels  in  nature,  power 
and  intellect,  and  hence  would  have  been  without  a  history, 
and  its  population  characterless.  And  this  would  not  have 
been  according  to  His  plan,  for  in  it  the  animal  must  precede 
the  spiritual  just  as  surely  as  the  acorn  must  precede  the  oak. 
The  Bible  has  to  do  with  things  and  not  with  imaginations ; 
with  bodies  and  not  phantasms ;  with  living  souls  of  every 
species ;  with  corporeal  beings  of  other  worlds,  and  with 
incorruptible  and  undying  men,  but  is  as  silent  as  the  grave 
about  such  souls  as  men  pretend  to  cure.  For  the  sons  of 
Adam  to  become  sons  of  God,  they  must  be  the  subjects  of 
an  adoption,  which  is  attainable  only  by  a  divinely  appointed 
means.  It  must  be  by  a  process  of  selection.  "  Since  by  a 
man  came  death,  by  a  man  also  came  a  resurrection  of  dead 
persons.  For  as  in  the  Adam  they  all  die,  so  also  in  the 
Christ  shall  they  all  be  made  alive.  But  every  one  in  his 
order.  Christ  the  first  fruits  ;  afterward  they  that  are  Christ's 


466  Life  and  Immortality. 

at  His  coming."  Here  it  is  obvious  that  the  apostle  is  not 
writing  of  all  the  individuals  of  .the  human  race,  but  only 
such  that  become  the  subject  of  a  pardon  of  life.  It  is  true 
that  all  men  do  die,  but  it  is  not  true  that  they  are  all  the 
subject  of  pardon.  Those  who  are  pardoned  are  "  the 
many,"  who  are  sentenced  to  live  forever.  The  sentence  to 
pardon  of  life  is  through  Jesus  Christ  who  in  pouring  out  His 
blood  upon  the  cross,  was  made  a  sacrifice  for  sin.  "  He 
was  delivered  for  our  offences,  and  raised  again  for  our  justi- 
fication," that  is,  for  the  pardon  of  those  who  believe  the  gos- 
pel. As  it  is  written,  "  he  that  believeth  the  gospel,  and  is 
baptized,  shall  be  saved."  Hence,  "  the  obedience  of  faith  "  is 
made  the  condition  of  righteousness,  and  this  obedience 
implies  the  existence  of  a  "  law  of  faith"  as  attested  by  that 
of  Moses,  which  is  "  the  law  of  works"  Having  believed 
the  gospel  and  been  baptized,  such  a  person  is  required  to 
"  walk  worthy  of  the  vocation,"  or  calling,  "  wherewith  he 
has  been  called,"  that  by  so  doing  he  may  be  "  accounted 
worthy  "  of  being  "  born  of  spirit,"  that  he  may  become 
"  spirit,"  or  a  spiritual  body,  and  so  enter  the  kingdom  of 
God,  crowned  with  "  glory,  honor,  incorruptibility  and  life." 
From  all  the  above,  it  must  be  obvious  to  the  unbiassed  mind, 
that  all  will  not  arise  to  newness  of  life,  "  for  as  many  of  you, 
as  have  been  baptized  into  Christ  have  put  on  Christ,  and  if 
ye  be  Christ's,  then  are  ye  the  seed  of  Abraham,  and  heirs 
according  to  the  promise."  When  they  have  been  thus  bap- 
tized, then  they  have  received  the  spirit  of  adoption,  or  have 
been  elected  into  God's  family,  and  then  they  can  address 
God  as  their  Father  who  is  in  heaven. 

Thus  adopted  into  God's  family  through  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  they  have  attained  to 
that  perfect  condition  of  knowing  all  that  is  to  be  known. 
New  glories  will  continually  open  up  to  their  admiring  vis- 
ion, and  new  facts  be  revealed  through  the  eternity  of  futu- 
rity. Man  will  carry  his  earth-acquired  knowledge  into  the 
other  world,  and  little  by  little  will  he  add  to  his  fund.  Those 


Survival  of  the  Fittest.  467 

who  have  made  the  best  of  their  time  in  their  probationary 
existence,  will  rank  as  much  above  their  fellows  in  the 
heaven-life  as  they  did  in  the  earth-life,  and  like  the  others 
will  reach  up  to  higher  acquirements.  There  will  be  no 
equalization  of  talents,  capacities  and  possessions,  but  each 
will  be  satisfied  with  his  own,  and  all  will  endeavor  to  be  as 
like  unto  Christ  as  the  conditions  of  their  heavenly  environ- 
ment will  permit.  There  will  be  grades  of  ability  and  char- 
acter in  the  new  life,  but  all  of  the  very  highest  standard 
when  measured  by  what  prevails  in  the  earth-life.  This  is 
the  teaching  of  the  Scriptures.  "  There  is  one  glory  of  the 
sun,  and  another  glory  of  the  moon,  and  another  glory  of  the 
stars ;  for  one  star  differeth  from  another  star  in  glory.  So 
also  is  the  resurrection  of  the  dead." 

Now  as  to  the  part  that  animals  and  plants  shall  figure  in 
the  new  existence.  Revelation,  as  has  been  seen,  was  given 
to  man.  This  does  not  imply  that  the  lower  forms  of  life 
were  not  made  "  partakers  of  the  divine  nature."  When  man 
was  placed  upon  this  earth,  or  rather  when  in  the  sequence 
of  events,  which  was  brought  about  by  the  prescribed 
scheme  of  Divinity,  he  appeared  upon  the  earth,  he  was 
given  the  control  of  all  the  creatures  of  God's  hands,  to  rule 
them  as  his  judgment  seemed  best  They  were  a  necessary 
part  of  the  plan  of  creation.  God  gave  the  man  directions 
concerning  them,  and  what  they  are,  and  we  refer  to  the 
domesticated  species  especially,  they  have  thus  been  made 
through  man's  wise,  intelligent  and  thoughtful  selection.  This 
has  been  the  instrument  through  which  God  has  worked  in 
building  up  a  history  and  a  character  for  the  humbler  works 
of  His  hands.  That  they  shall  pass  into  the  future  life  with 
him,  at  least  such  as  have  shown  their  fitness  to  endure, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  any  one  who  pauses  a 
few  brief  moments  in  the  rush  and  turmoil  of  everyday  life 
and  considers  the  matter  with  all  due  seriousness.  All 
existence,  as  we  have  elsewhere  claimed,  is  a  unit.  All  life, 
like  all  love,  is  divine.  There  can  nothing  exist  that  does 


468  Life  and  Immortality. 

not  contain  some  sort  of  development  of  soul.  There  is  no 
escape  from  this  assertion.  Instead  of  isolating  ourselves  then 
from  the  humbler  creatures  of  God's  workmanship,  let  us 
recognize  them  as  our  kin  and  include  them  in  the  grand 
scheme  of  redemption,  and  as  partakers  with  us  in  the  future 
state  of  Divine  Love  and  in  higher  and  endlessly  higher 
development  and  progress. 


THERE  is  a  popular  tradition  that  somewhere  in  the 
Scriptures  we  are  taught  that  of  all  living  denizens  of 
the  earth,  man  alone  possesses  a  spirit,  and  that  he  alone 
survives  in  spirit  after  the  death  of  the  material  body.  Were 
this  the  truth,  no  room  would  exist  for  argument  to  those 
who  profess  belief  in  a  literal  rendering  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  who  base  their  faith  upon  that  literal  belief.  How- 
ever much  such  a  statement  might  seem  to  controvert  all 
ideas  of  benevolence,  justice  and  common-sense,  such  believ- 
ers would  feel  bound  to  accept  it  on  trust,  and  to  wait  a  future 
time  for  its  full  comprehension. 

Even  the  possession  of  reason  is  denied  by  many  persons 
to  animals,  their  several  actions  being  ascribed  to  the  power 
of  instinct,  and  it  is  therefore  not  the  least  bit  strange  that 
all  but  a  comparatively  few  should  believe  that  when  an 
animal  dies,  its  life-principle  dies  too.  The  animating 
power,  they  claim,  is  annihilated,  while  the  body  is  resolved 
into-  its  constituent  elements  so  as  to  take  form  in  other 
bodies. 

Two  passages  of  Scripture,  one  in  the  Psalms  and  the 
other  in  Ecclesiastes,  are  almost  entirely,  if  not  wholly, 
responsible  for  this  belief.  The  former,  which  runs  in  the 
authorized  version,  "  Nevertheless,  man  being  in  honor, 
abideth  not ;  he  is  like  the  beasts  that  perish,"  is  that  which 
is  generally  quoted  as  decisive  of  the  whole  question. 
"  Man,  being  in  honor,  hath  no  understanding,  but  is  com- 
pared to  the  beasts  that  perish  "  is  another  translation,  but 
differs  not  materially  from  the  other.  The  second  passage 


4/o  Life  and  Immortality. 

referred  to  from  Ecclesiastes,  reads :  "  Who  knoweth  the 
spirit  of  man  that  goeth  upward,  and  the  spirit  of  the  beast 
that  goeth  downward  to  the  earth  ?"  Now,  it  is  upon  the 
strength  of  these  two  passages  that  we  are  called  upon  to 
believe  that  when  a  beast  dies  its  life,  like  that  of  an  expired 
lamp,  goes  out  forever.  Nothing  is  more  dangerous  in  the 
exposition  of  Scripture  than  attempting  to  explain  a  pas- 
sage, however  simple  it  may  seem  to  be,  without  reference  to 
the  original  text,  for  the  translator  may  have  mistaken  the 
true  sense  of  the  words,  or  he  may  have  inadequately 
expressed  their  signification,  or,  owing  to  a  change  in  meaning, 
the  words  of  a  passage  may  now  bear  an  exactly  contrary 
sense  to  that  conveyed  when  they  were  first  written. 

But  laying  aside  this  point  for  the  present,  and  accepting 
the  passage  as  it  stands,  as  well  as  the  literal  meaning  of  the 
words  as  generally  understood,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
we  must  believe  that  beasts  are  not  possessed  of  immortal 
life.  If,  however,  we  are  to  take  the  literal  sense  of  the 
Bible,  and  no  other,  we  are  equally  forced  to  believe  that 
man  has  no  life  after  death.  The  book  of  Psalms  is  full  of 
examples.  Let  us  take  a  few  from  the  many  that  might  be 
given  :  "  In  death  there  is  no  remembrance  of  thee  :  in  the 
grave,  who  shall  give  thee  thanks?  "  "  The  dead  praise  not 
the  Lord,  neither  any  that  go  down  into  silence."  "  His 
breath  goeth  forth,  he  returneth  to  his  earth ;  in  that  very 
day  his  thoughts  perish."  Taken  solely  in  their  literal  sense, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  of  their  meaning.  Nothing  more 
gloomy,  dreary  or  more  despondent  can  be  found  in  the 
entire  range  of  heathen  literature  than  these  passages,  and 
others  that  might  be  quoted  from  the  inspired  Psalmist,  in 
the  contemplation  of  death.  In  the  very  book  from  which 
the  single  passage  was  taken,  which  is  claimed  to  deny  immor- 
tality to  the  lower  animals,  there  are  five  times  as  many  passages 
that  proclaim  the  same  sad  end  to  the  life  of  man.  We  are 
distinctly  and  definitely  told  therein  that  those  who  have 
died  have  no  remembrance  of  God,  and  cannot  praise  Him. 


Man's  Preeminence.  471 

Death  has  been  spoken  of  as  the  "  land  of  forgetfulness  "— 
the  place  of  darkness,  where  all  man's  thoughts  perish. 
Certainly  no  more  than  this  can  be  said  of  the  "  beasts  that 
perish." 

Other  holy  writers  make  similar  affirmations.  Speaking 
of  mankind  in  general,  who  "  dwell  in  houses  of  clay,"  Job 
says  :  "  They  are  destroyed  from  morning  to  evening ;  they 
perish  forever,  without  any  regarding  it."  Again  he  says, 
and  the  passage  is  more  definite  than  the  preceding :  "  As 
the.  cloud  is  consumed  and  vanisheth  away,  so  he  that  goeth 
down  to  the  grave  shall  come  up  no  more."  And  still  again : 
"  Man  dieth,  and  wasteth  away  :  yea,  man  giveth  up  the 
ghost,  and  where  is  he  ?  As  the  waters  fail  from  the  sea, 
and  the  flood  decayeth  and  drieth  up :  so  man  lieth  down, 
and  riseth  not."  Chapters  III  and  X  tell  of  the  piteous 
lamentations  of  Job  over  his  life,  wherein  he  complains  that 
he  ever  was  born,  that  existence  was  ever  given  to  him,  that 
he  was  ever  taken  from  a  state  of  absolute  nonentity,  and 
that  even  death  itself  can  bring  no  relief  to  his  miseries 
except  extinction. 

Turning  to  Ecclesiastes,  in  which  book  occurs  the  solitary 
passage  which  is  held  to  disprove  a  future  existence  to  the 
lower  animals,  there  are  passages  which  are  even  more 
emphatic  as  to  the  immortality  of  man.  Read  what  is 
declared  :  "  I  said  in  my  heart  concerning  the  estate  of  the 
sons  of  men,  that  God  might  manifest  them,  and  that  they 
might  see  that  they  themselves  are  beasts.  For  that  which 
befalleth  the  sons  of  men  befalleth  beasts ;  even  one  thing 
befalleth  them.  As  the  one  dieth,  so  dieth  the  other;  yea, 
they  have  all  one  breath,  so  that  a  man  has  no  preeminence 
over  a  beast :  for  all  is  vanity.  All  go  unto  one  place ;  all 
are  of  the  dust,  and  all  turn  to  dust  again."  Further  it  is 
said  :  "  For  the  living  know  that  they  shall  die,  but  the  dead 
know  not  anything,  neither  have  they  any  more  a  reward,  for 
the  memory  of  them  is  forgotten."  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand 
findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might;  for  there  is  no 


472  Life  and  Immortality. 

work,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom  in  the  grave 
whither  thou  goest."  Literally  interpreted,  no  one  can 
doubt  the  import  of  these  words  from  Ecclesiastes,  for  they 
definitely  state  that,  as  regards  a  future  life,  there  is  no 
distinction  between  man  and  beast,  and  that  when  they  die 
they  all  go  to  the  same  place.  It  is  also  distinctly  stated 
that  after  death  man  can  do  no  work,  know  nothing,  nor 
receive  any  reward.  Were  we  to  deduce  our  ideas  of  the 
condition  of  man  after  death  from  the  irrepressibly  sad  and 
gloomy  passages  from  Job  and  Ecclesiastes,  most  deplorable 
and  hopeless  would  be  the  very  thought  of  dissolution.  But 
we  do  not  accept  them  in  this  light.  They  are  written  sym- 
bolically, and  there  underlies  them  a  spiritual  sense.  It  is 
not,  however,  the  latter  sense  that  concerns  us  at  present, 
but  the  literal  meaning  of  the  translation,  and,  according  to 
that  literal  meaning,  if  we  take  two  texts  to  prove  that  beasts 
have  no  future  life,  we  are  compelled  by  no  less  than  four- 
teen passages  to  believe  that  man,  in  common  with  beasts, 
has  no  better  prospect.  We  have  no  right  to  say  which 
passages  are  to  be  taken  literally,  and  which  parabolically, 
but  must  apply  the  same  test  to  all  alike,  and  treat  all  in  a 
similar  manner. 

All  classical  readers  are  familiar  with  that  wonderful 
eleventh  book  of  Homer's  Odyssey,  called  the  Necyomanteia, 
or  Invocation  of  the  Dead,  in  which  Ulysses  is  depicted  as 
descending  into  the  regions  of  departed  spirits  for  the  pur- 
pose of  invoking  them  and  obtaining  advice  as  to  his  future 
adventures.  Dreary,  and  horrible  indeed,  are  the  revelations 
which  the  whole  of  the  strange  history  makes  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  future  life.  All  is  wild  and  dark,  and  hunger, 
thirst  and  discontent  prevail.  Nothing  is  heard  of  elysian 
fields,  where  piety,  wisdom  and  virtue  abound.  Gloom, 
misery  and  vain  regrets  for  earth  pervade  the  entire  episode. 
When  is  considered  this  heathen  poet's  ideas  concerning  the 
future  state  of  man,  it  is  no  wonder  that  sensual  pleasures 
should  be  held  as  the  principal  object  of  his  life  when  he  is 


Man's  Preeminence.  473 

to  look  forward  to  such  a  future,  a  future  from  which  neither 
wisdom,  nor  virtue,  nor  piety  could  save  him,  and  where  there 
is  nothing  but  an  eternity  of  gloom,  remorse  and  hopeless 
despondency.  Sad  as  this  picture  is,  yet  it  is  far  brighter 
than  that  of  the  Psalmist,  the  Preacher,  or  Job.  Those  who 
have  passed  into  the  world  of  spirits  still  retain  their  indi- 
viduality after  death,  being  distinguished  in  the  spirit  as  they 
had  been  in  the  flesh.  Memory  survives  the  body's  death. 
Naught  of  their  earthly  career  is  forgotten.  They  still  have 
an  interest  in  their  friends  that  remain  in  the  body  whom 
they  love,  and  over  whose  well-being  they  unceasingly 
watch.  No  such  consolation,  as  has  been  described,  exists 
in  the  future  state  of  man  if  the  passages  of  Scripture  that 
have  been  quoted  are  taken  in  a  literal  sense.  Man,  in  that 
event,  passes  at  death  into  a  place  of  darkness,  forgetfulness 
and  silence,  where  there  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  knowl- 
edge, nor  wisdom,  and  where  even  his  very  thoughts  perish. 
No  other  interpretation,  if  taken  literally,  can  be  put  upon 
them,  for  the  statements  are  too  explicit  to  be  explained 
away  or  softened. 

In  the  outward  sense  of  their  writings  the  Psalmist, 
Job  and  the  Preacher  are  on  an  equality  with  Horace  in 
their  absolute  unbelief  in  a  future  existence,  and  in  a 
consequent  desire  to  snatch  what  fleeting  pleasures  they 
can  from  earth  before  the  inexorable  law  of  fate  consigns 
them  to  dark  oblivion.  Startling  as  it  may  seem  to  compare 
the  teachings  of  a  Greek  idolater  and  of  a  Latin  Epicurean 
heathen  with  those  of  sacred  writers,  yet  it  is  still  more  start- 
ling to  show  that  the  teachings  of  the  Epicurean  sensualist 
are  not  a  whit  wiser  than  those  of  the  Scriptural  writer,  while 
those  of  the  Greek  poet  are  very  much  better.  Such,  how- 
ever, is  the  fact,  and,  if  we  are  to  be  bound  by  the  literal  inter- 
pretatation  of  the  Scriptures,  there  is  no  possibility  of  deny- 
ing it  without  doing  violence  to  reason  and  common-sense. 

We  are  now  brought  face  to  face  with  the  point  previously 
mentioned.       Does  the  authorized  version  give  a  full  and 


474  Life  and  Immortality. 

correct  interpretation  of  the  original  ?  It  is  claimed  that  it 
does  not.  The  word  "  perish,"  it  is  said,  does  not  occur  at 
all  in  the  Hebrew  text,  nor  is  even  the  idea  expressed.  No 
such  translation  as  "  beasts  that  perish,"  which  appears 
twice  in  our  version,  is  justified  by  the  Hebrew,  the  words 
of  the  original  implying  "  dumb  beasts."  The  idea  of  per- 
ishing, in  the  sense  of  annihilation,  does  not  seem  to  be 
implied.  Let  us  take  the  Jewish  Bible,  which  is  acknowl- 
edged to  be  the  best  and  closest  translation  in  the  English 
language,  and  examine  it.  Both  in  verses  12  and  20  of 
Psalms  XLIX,  where  the  passage  occurs,  the  rendering 
reads  :  "  Man  that  is  in  honor,  and  understandeth  this  not,  is 
like  the  beasts  tJiat  are  irrational."  As  an  alternative  read- 
ing for  "  irrational,"  the  word  "  dumb  "  is  given  in  a  foot- 
note. A  somewhat  similar  reading  is  found  in  the  Septu- 
agint,  which,  according  to  Brunton,  runs  as  follows  :  "  Man 
that  is  in  honor  understands  not ;  he  is  compared  to  the 
senseless  cattle,  and  is  like  them."  In  WyclifFe's  Bible, 
which  is  a  translation  from  the  Vulgate,  the  passage  is  ren- 
dered :  "  A  man  whanne  he  was  in  honour  understood  not ; 
he  is  comparisoned  to  unwise  beestis,  and  is  maad  lijk 
to  tho."  The  "  Douay "  Bible,  made  by  the  English 
Roman  Catholic  College  of  Douay,  and  which  is  the 
version  accepted  by  that  branch  of  the  Church  in  Eng- 
land, renders  the  passage  :  "  Man,  when  he  was  in  honor, 
did  not  understand ;  he  hath  been  compared  to  sense- 
less beasts  and  made  like  to  them."  Numerous  other 
translations  might  be  adduced,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
scarcely  any  of  them  imply  the  idea  of  perishing  in  the 
sense  of  being  reduced  to  nothing.  Even  supposing  that 
the  word  "  perish  "  is  translated  correctly,  it  does  not  there- 
fore follow  that  annihilation  is  meant.  Take  the  tenth  verse 
of  the  same  Psalm  in  our  authorized  version  :  "  For  he 
seeth  that  wise  men  die,  and  likewise  the  fool  and  the  brutish 
person  perish,  and  leave  their  wealth  to  others."  Surely  no 
sensible,  intelligent  person  would  construe  this  passage  into 


Man's  Preeminence. 

a  declaration  that  the  wise  and  fool  and  brutish  had  no  exist- 
ence after  the  death  of  the  body. 

That  the  last  verse  of  the  Psalm  is  a  summary  of  the  whole 
poem,  seems  not  improbable.  A  vivid  picture  of  the  true 
object  of  man's  life  in  this  world  is  drawn  by  the  Psalmist, 
and  also  of  his  tendency  to  lose  sight  thereof.  In  it  he  sets 
forth  the  shortness  of  human  existence,  and  shows  that 
neither  riches,  station  in  life,  nor  fame,  which  appertain  to 
the  mere  earthly  career  of  man,  can  endure  after  his  death. 
He,  therefore,  reasonably  concludes  that  men  who  fix  their 
hearts  upon  these  earthly  vanities  ignore  the  honor  of  their 
manhood,  and  degrade  themselves  to  the  plane  of  the  dumb 
beasts,  whose  operations  are,  as  far  as  we  know,  restricted  to 
this  present  world. 

From  what  has  been  adduced  it  will  at  once  be  evident 
that  the  idea  that  beasts  are  said  by  the  Psalmist  to  have  no 
future  life  may  be  dismissed  from  our  minds,  and  that  the 
passage  may  be  rejected  as  totally  irrelevant  to  the  subject. 
This  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  as  the  passage  in  question 
is  the  only  one  which  even  appears  to  make  any  definite 
statement  as  to  the  condition  of  the  lower  animals  after  death. 
Every  reasonable  person  will  now  see  how  essential  it  is  that 
the  true  meaning  of  the  Hebrew  text  should  be  known,  and 
that  the  Psalmist  should  not  be  charged  with  the  introduction 
of  a  doctrine  to  which,  whether  true  or  false,  he  makes  not 
the.  slightest  reference. 

Having  settled  beyond  the  possibility  of  refutation  the 
true  meaning  implied  by  the  "beasts  that  perish,"  we 
will  now  turn  to  the  passage  in  Ecclesiastes,  which,  as  has 
been  seen,  is  the  only  one  which  contains  any  direct  refer- 
ence to  the  future  of  the  lower  orders  of  animal  existence: 
"  Who  knoweth  the  spirit  of  man  that  goeth  upward,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  beast  that  goeth  downward  to  the  earth?" 
exclaimeth  the  Preacher.  Here  we  have  an  admission  that, 
whether  the  spirit  ascend  or  descend,  both  man  and  beasts  do 
have  spirits,  and  these  are  undoubtedly  the  same  in  essence,  for 


476  Life  and  Immortality. 

the  Hebrew  word  is  identical  is  both  cases.  In  the  Jewish 
Bible  the  rendering  is  verbatim  the  same  as  that  of  our 
authorized  version.  Read,  instead  of  an  isolated  verse,  the 
entire  passage : — 

"  I  said  in  mine  heart  concerning  the  estate  of  the  sons  of 
men,  that  God  might  manifest  them,  and  that  they  might 
see  that  they  themselves  are  beasts. 

"  For  that  which  befalleth  the  sons  of  men  befalleth  beasts ; 
even  the  one  thing  befalleth  them  :  as  the  one  dieth,  so 
dieth  the  other;  yea,  they  have  all  one  breath;  so  that  a 
man  hath  no  preeminence  above  a  beast :  for  all  is  vanity. 

"  All  go  to  one  place ;  all  are  of  the  same  dust,  and  all 
turn  to  dust  again. 

"  Who  knoweth  the  spirit  of  man  that  goeth  upward,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  beast  that  goeth  downward  to  the  earth  ? 

"  Wherefore  I  perceive  that  there  is  nothing  better  than 
that  a  man  should  rejoice  in  his  own  works;  for  that  is  his 
portion ;  for  who  shall  bring  him  to  see  what  shall  be  after 
him?" 

Every  page  of  Ecclesiastes  breathes  of  the  self-reproach 
of  the  Preacher  for  a  wasted  life.  Speaking  from  his  own 
sad,  bitter  experience,  he  shows  that  riches,  glory,  pleasure 
and  even  wisdom  are  nothing  but  utter  emptiness.  The 
same  theme  pervades  the  forty-ninth  Psalm,  but  the  Psalmist 
treats  it  with  grave  solemnity,  admonishing  his  hearers  of 
the  shortness  of  human  life,  and  showing  that  if  a  man  for- 
gets the  glory  of  his  manhood,  made  in  the  image  of  God, 
he  puts  himself  on  the  level  of  the  dumb  brutes.  Though 
reaching  the  same  conclusion,  yet  the  Preacher  views  the 
subject  from  a  different  standpoint.  Employing  biting  sar- 
casm rather  than  solemn  warning,  he  exposes  the  vanity  of 
all  worldly  and  selfish  pleasures,  and  the  miserable  fate  that 
awaits  the  voluptuary,  and  then  ironically  advises  his  readers 
to  place  in  such  their  entire  happiness. 

So  palpable  is  the  bitter  irony  of  the  author  throughout 
the  book,  and  even  in  the  twenty-first  verse  of  the  third 


Man's  Preeminence.  477 

chapter,  yet  by  no  manner  of  interpretation  can  this 
specialized  text  be  made  to  mean  that  beasts  are  anniT 
hilated  after  death,  while  men  rise  again  and  soar  above 
earthly  things  to  honor  and  glory.  Ironically  the  writer 
assumes  in  it  that  his  readers  do  not  know  the  difference 
between  the  spirit  of  man  and  that  of  beast,  and,  reasoning 
from  that  position,  advises  them  that  "  there  is  nothing 
better  for  a  man  than  that  he  should  eat  and  drink,  and  that 
he  should  make  his  soul  enjoy  good  in  his  labor." 

From  what  has  been  shown,  it  is  evident  that  the  passage 
from  Psalms  does  not  even  contain  the  idea  of  annihilation 
as  regards  beasts,  and  that  the  one  from  Ecclesiastes  is 
entirely  misapprehended.  That  they  have  no  bearing  upon 
the  subject  must  now  be  manifest.  We  cannot,  therefore, 
resist  the  conclusion  that  the  Scriptures  do  not  deny  future 
life  to  the  inferior  animals. 

This  admission  gives  courage  for  a  step  still  further 
forward.  Man's  latest  achievement  is  to  conceive  that  all 
existence  is  a  unit.  One  spirit  pervades  the  whole  natural 
world,  an  emanation  from  the  Spirit  of  Him  who  sitteth 
enthroned  in  the  Eternal  Heavens,  and  who  not  only  is,  as 
Moses  declares,  "  God  of  the  spirits  of  all  flesh,"  but  God 
of  the  spirits  of  all  animate  nature.  We  cannot  divorce  the 
two  great  kingdoms  of  nature.  If  there  is  a  futurity  of 
existence  for  man,  whom  we  are  told  was  "  made  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels,"  but  who  in  these  latter  days  seems 
to  have  deteriorated,  and  who  in  thousands  of  instances 
displays  a  character  far  less  noble  and  honorable  than  that 
of  the  dog  which  he  kennels  and  feeds,  then  there  must  be 
for  the  so-called  brute,  the  companion  of  his  joys  and  his 
sorrows.  If  for  beast,  bird,  reptile,  fish  and  insect,  and  none 
can  be  so  foolish  in  the  face  of  the  most  indubitable  evidence 
to  deny  it,  then  there  must  be  for  tree,  shrub  and  flower, 
for  God,  who  is  infinite  in  love,  mercy  and  charity,  would 
not  be  God  if  solely  concerned  with  the  future  of  the 
smallest  fractional  part  of  His  children.  Man  is  psychically 


478  Life  and  Immortality. 

related  to  all  life.  There  is  soul,  in  some  sort  of  develop- 
ment, in  everything;  and  certainly  God  meant  in  His  grand 
scheme  of  redemption  to  lift  the  world,  not  a  portion  of  it,  but 
the  entire  world,  out  of  its  lower  ideas  into  its  higher 
beauties  and  realities. 


FUTURE  IiIFE. 


THAT  the  Scriptures,  contrary  to  popular  tradition,  do 
not  deny  a  future  life  to  the  lower  animals  has  already 
been  conclusively  shown.  But  do  they  declare  anything  in 
favor  of  another  world  for  beast  as  well  as  for  man  ?  This 
is  a  question  which  we  shall  now  endeavor  to  answer.  As 
to  man's  immortality,  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  teach 
the  doctrine  by  inference  rather  than  by  direct  assertion,  for 
the  reason,  as  has  been  presumed,  that  the  writers  of  the 
several  books,  which  were  selected  at  a  comparatively  late 
period  from  among  many  others  and  formed  into  the  volume 
popularly  designated  the  Bible,  assumed  as  a  matter  of 
course  that  man  was  immortal,  and  therefore  did  not  concern 
themselves  about  a  matter  which  they  supposed  everybody 
knew.  But  as  far  as  the  Old  Testament  goes,  inference  tells 
more  strongly  in  favor  of  the  beast's  immortality  than  that 
of  man.  Although  in  either  case  there  does  not  appear  to 
be  any  definite  assertion  of  a  futurity  of  existence,  yet  there 
is  no  such  denial  of  the  immortality  of  the  beast  as  has 
already  been  shown  in  the  case  of  the  man. 

Beasts,  as  readers  of  the  Old  Testament  only  too  well 
know,  were  included  in  the  merciful  provision  of  the  Sab- 
bath, which,  in  its  essence,  was  a  spiritual  and  not  simply  a 
physical  ordinance.  And,  again,  we  find  many  provisions 
in  the  ancient  Scriptures  against  maltreating  the  lower  ani- 
mals, or  giving  them  unnecessary  pain,  and  these  provis- 
ions stand  side  by  side  in  the  Divine  Law  with  those  which 
apply  to  man.  All  are  familiar  with  the  prohibition  of 
"  seething  a  kid  in  its  mother's  milk,"  and  the  non-muzzling 


480  Life  and  Immortality. 

of  the  ox  in  treading  out  the  corn  lest  he  should  suffer  the 
pangs  of  hunger  in  the  presence  of  the  food  which  he  may 
not  eat.  Even  bird's  nesting  was  regulated  by  Divine  Law. 
"  If  a  bird's  nest  chance  to  be  before  thee  in  the  way  in  any 
tree,  or  on  the  ground,  whether  they  be  young  ones,  or  eggs, 
and  the  dam  sitting  upon  the  young,  or  upon  the  eggs, 
thou  shalt  not  take  the  dam  with  the  young :  But  thou 
shalt  in  any  wise  let  the  dam  go,  and  take  the  young  to 
thee;  that  it  may  be  well  with  thee,  and  that  thou  mayest 
prolong  thy  days."  Moreover,  as  many  animals  must  be 
killed  daily,  some  for  sacrifice  and  others  solely  for  food,  the 
strictest  regulations  were  enjoined  that  their  death  should  be 
sharp  and  quick,  and  that  the  whole  of  their  blood  should 
be  poured  out  upon  the  ground  lest  they  suffer  lingering 
pain. 

In  keeping  with  the  same  consideration  felt  by  Deity 
towards  the  kid  and  ox  and  bird,  as  expressed  in  the  Law, 
we  would  refer  to  the  few  concluding  sentences  of  the  Book 
of  Jonah : — 

"  Thou  hast  had  pity  on  the  gourd,  for  the  which  thou 
hast  not  labored,  neither  madest  it  grow  ;  which  came  up  in 
a  night,  and  perished  in  a  night. 

"  And  should  I  not  spare  Nineveh,  that  great  city,  wherein 
are  more  than  six  score  thousand  persons  that  cannot  dis- 
cern between  their  right  hand  and  their  left  hand ;  and  also 
much  cattle?" 

"  Every  beast  of  the  forest  is  mine,"  saith  the  Lord,  "  and 
the  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills."  And  again,  "  I  know  all 
the  fowls  of  the  mountains  :  and  the  wild  beasts  of  the  field 
are  mine."  Similar  passages,  in  which  God  announces  him- 
self as  the  protector  of  the  beast  as  well  as  of  man,  could  be 
given,  for  the  Scriptures  are  full  of  them.  Who  does  not 
recall  the  well-known  saying  of  our  Lord  respecting  the 
lives  of  the  sparrows :  "  Are  not  two  sparrows  sold  for  a 
farthing?  and  one  of  them  shall  not  fall  on  the  ground  with- 
out the  notice  of  your  Father." 


Future  Life.  48 1 

Cowperinhis  "Task,"  makes  allusion  to  this  branch  of 
our  subject  in  the  following  lines  : — 

"  Man  may  dismiss  compassion  from  his  heart, 
But  God  will  never.     When  He  charged  the  Jew 
To  assist  his  foe's  down-fallen  beast  to  rise  ; 
And  when  the  bush-exploring  boy,  that  seized 
The  young,  to  let  the  parent-bird  go  free  ; 
Proved  He  not  plainly  that  His  meaner  works, 
Are  yet  His  care,  and  have  an  interest  all — 
All  in  the  universal  Father's  love  ?  " 

One  passage  there  is  which  certainly  does  point  to  a  future 
for  the  beast  as  well  as  for  man,  and  which  places  them  both 
on  the  very  same  plane.  It  is  found  in  Genesis,  ninth  chap- 
ter and  fifth  verse,  and  constitutes  a  part  of  the  law 
which  was  delivered  to  Noah,  and  which  was  subsequently 
incorporated  in  the  fuller  law  given  through  Moses.  "  And 
surely  your  blood  of  your  lives  will  I  require,"  said  God  to 
Noah  and  his  sons,  "  at  the  hand  of  every  beast  will  I 
require  it,  and  at  the  hand  of  every  man ;  at  the  hand  of 
every  man's  brother  will  I  require  the  life  of  man."  In 
Exodus,  chapter  twenty-one  and  twenty-eighth  verse,  we 
read,  "  If  an  ox  gore  a  man  or  a  woman,  that  they  die  :  then 
the  ox  shall  be  surely  stoned,  and  his  flesh  shall  not  be 
eaten ;  but  the  owner  of  the  ox  shall  be  quit." 

While  there  are  no  passages  of  Scripture,  as  has  been 
seen,  which  deny  immortality  of  life  to  the  lower  animals, 
yet  there  are  certainly  some  which  tend  to  show  it  by  infer- 
ence. But  the  Scriptures  were  written  for  human  beings, 
and  not  for  the  lower  animals,  and  therefore  it  could  hardly 
be  expected  that  any  information  could  be  gained  therefrom 
on  the  subject.  As  we  find  so  few  direct  references  to  the 
future  state  of  man,  it  is  not  at  all  to  be  expected  that  we 
should  receive  direct  instruction  upon  the  after-life  of  the 
beast. 

But  just  as  man  has  had  within  himself  for  untold  ages  an 
intuitive  witness  to  his  own  immortality,  yet  there  are  those, 


482  Life  and  Immortality. 

lovers  and  friends  of  the  so-called  brute,  who  have  an  instinct- 
ive sense  that  animals,  some  of  whom  surpass  in  love, 
unselfishness,  generosity,  conscience  and  self-sacrifice  many 
of  their  human  brethren,  must  share  with  him  in  addition  to 
these  virtues  an  immortal  spirit  in  which  they  take  their  rise. 
No  more  eminent  personage  than  Bishop  Butler  was  a  believer 
in  this  idea.  Substantially  he  asserts  that  the  Scriptures 
give  no  reasons  why  the  lower  animals  should  not  possess 
immortal  souls.  Similar  sentiments  have  been  voiced  by 
equally  distinguished  writers. 

Southey,  writing  of  the  death  of  a  favorite  spaniel  that  had 
been  the  companion  of  his  boyhood,  says  : — 

"Ah,  poor  companion  !  when  thou  followedst  last 
Thy  master's  parting  footsteps  to  the  gate 
Which  closed  forever  on  him,  thou  didst  lose 
Thy  best  friend,  and  none  was  left  to  plead 
For  the  old  age  of  brute  fidelity. 
But  fare  thee  well.     Mine  is  no  narrowed  creed ; 
And  He  who  gave  thee  being  did  not  frame 
The  mystery  of  Life  to  be  the  sport 
Of  merciless  man.     There  is  another  world 
For  all  that  live  and  move — a  better  one  ! 
Where  the  proud  bipeds,  who  would  fain  confine 
Infinite  Goodness  to  the  little  bounds 
Of  their  own  charity,  may  envy  thee." 


Thus  does  Lamartine,  in  "  Jocelyn's  Episode,"  beautifully 
express  himself  in  addressing  a  faithful  and  affectionate 
canine  by  the  name  of  Fido  :— 

"  I  cannot,  will  not,  deem  thee  a  deceiving, 

Illusive  mockery  of  human  feeling, 

A  body  organized,  by  fond  caress 

Warmed  into  seeming  tenderness  ; 

A  mere  automaton,  on  which  our  love 

Plays,  as  on  puppets,  when  their  wires  we  move. 

No  !  when  that  feeling  quits  thy  glazing  eye, 
•  Twill  live  in  some  blest  world  beyond  the  sky." 


Future  Life.  483 

Not  by  man  alone  have  these  higher  qualities  been 
accorded  to  the  brute.  Women  have  praised  the  good  within 
the  lower  animals,  and  been  quite  as  willing  to  share  with 
them  the  benefits  of  an  immortal  life.  Eugenie  de  Guerin,  a 
woman  distinguished  for  her  devotional  piety,  and  an  author 
of  no  mean  repute,  was,  like  the  most  of  her  sex,  quite  pas- 
sionately fond  of  pets.  Hers  was  a  turtle-dove.  Its  voice  was 
the  first  to  greet  her  in  the  morning.  There  was  a  pleasure 
in  its  soft,  gentle  cooings,  as  they  fell  upon  her  ear,  that  sent 
a  sweet  consolation  to  her  busy,  thinking  soul.  But  the 
time  came  at  last  when  she  must  part  with  her  treasure. 
The  morn  dawned  bright,  an  August  morning,  and  the  bird 
was  well  and  happy,  but,  with  the  falling  of  the  shadows  at 
even-tide,  its  little  life  went  out.  A  bitter  trial  it  was  for  the 
mistress,  who  loved  with  a  perfect  love  her  feathered  friend. 
While  wrestling  with  her  intense  sorrow,  and  after  she  had 
sincerely  placed  its  mortal  remains  in  a  dainty  cavity  beneath 
the  roses,  it  was  that  she  wrote  :  "  I  have  a  tolerably  strong 
belief  in  the  souls  of  animals,  and  I  should  even  like  there  to 
be  a  little  paradise  for  the  good  and  gentle,  like  turtle-doves, 
dogs  and  lambs.  But  what  to  do  with  wolves  and  other 
wicked  animals  ?  To  damn  them  ? — that  embarrasses  me." 

Less  devotional,  perhaps,  and  looking  rather  to  logic  than 
to  intuition,  was  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Somerville.  With  such 
a  difference  in  constitution  between  the  two  women,  we 
would  naturally  look  for  the  greatest  divergence  of  opinion 
upon  a  matter  of  this  kind,  but,  astonishing  to  relate,  there 
is  noticeable  a  marked  unanimity.  Speaking  of  death,  and 
the  accompanying  change  of  environing  objects,  this  gifted 
writer,  in  her  eighty-ninth  year,  says  in  her  "  Memoirs  " : — 

"  I  shall  regret  the  sky,  the  sea,  with  all  their  beautiful 
coloring ;  the  earth,  with  its  verdure  and  flowers ;  but  far 
more  shall  I  grieve  to  leave  animals  that  have  followed  our 
steps  affectionately  for  years,  without  knowing  for  certainty 
their  ultimate  fate,  though  I  firmly  believe  that  the  living 
principle  is  never  extinguished.  Since  the  atoms  of  matter 


484  Life  and  Immortality. 

are  indestructible,  as  far  as  we  know,  it  is  difficult  to  believe 
that  the  span  which  gives  to  their  union  life,  memory, 
affection,  intelligence  and  fidelity  is  evanescent. 

"  Every  atom  in  the  human  frame,  as  well  as  in  that  of  ani- 
mals, undergoes  a  periodical  change  by  continual  waste  and 
renovation :  the  abode  is  changed,  not  its  inhabitant.  If 
animals  have  no  future,  the  existence  of  many  is  most  wretched. 
Multitudes  are  starved,  cruelly  beaten,  and  loaded  during 
life ;  many  die  under  a  barbarous  vivisection. 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  any  creature  was  created  for 
uncompensated  misery :  it  would  be  contrary  to  the  attri- 
butes of  God's  mercy  and  justice.  I  am  sincerely  happy  to 
find  that  I  am  not  the  only  believer  in  the  immortality  of  the 
lower  animals." 

To  have  given  the  many  opinions  that  have  been  expressed 
by  the  good  and  wise  of  the  past  in  favor  of  the  belief  that 
animals  received,  in  common  with  man,  a  particle  of  the 
divine  essence,  and  hence  became  immortal,  would  have 
extended  this  chapter  beyond  intended  limits.  We  have 
room  for  just  another  witness.  No  one  is  better  known  for 
his  convictions  upon  this  subject  than  the  late  Dr.  Wood, 
whose  contributions  to  natural  history  are  known  the  world 
over.  Speaking  of  the  death  of  his  dog  Rory,  a  creature 
that  manifested  in  the  flesh  the  strongest  affection  for  his 
keeper,  the  Doctor  says : — 

"  I  could  not  believe  that  an  animal  which  would  die  of 
grief,  as  he  died,  for  the  absence  of  his  master,  would  have  his 
existence  limited  to  this  present  world,  and  that  such  inten- 
sity of  love  should  terminate  at  the  same  moment  that  the 
material  heart  ceased  to  beat." 

When  we  think  of  the  apparent  inequality  that  is  every- 
where to  be  seen  in  the  lives  both  of  man  and  beast,  we  can- 
not believe,  as  Mrs.  Somerville  has  remarked,  that  any  being 
was  "  created  for  uncompensated  misery."  Some  human 
beings  are  endowed  with  everything  that  a  man  can  desire — 
health,  -strength,  riches,  accomplishments  and  capacity  for 


Future  Life.  485 

enjoyment — while  others  are  destitute  of  all  these  accessories 
to  happiness.  Putting  aside  the  fact  that  those  whose  lots 
seem  to  be  the  most  enviable  are  the  least  to  be  envied,  we 
cannot  help  acknowledging  that  this  disparity  does  exist,  and 
that  the  earthly  lot  of  some  is  very  hard,  while  that  of  others 
is  very  easy.  But  we  must  remember  that  there  is  taught  in 
the  New  Testament  the  grand  doctrine  of  Compensation. 
Paul  alludes  to  this  when  he  remarks  that  the  sufferings  of 
this  world  are  not  to  be  compared  with  the  glories  of  the 
world  to  come,  and  that  the  troubles,  trials  and  tribulations 
of  this  life  are  but  the  precursor  of  that  glorified  existence 
where  all  these  things  will  be  utterly  unknown.  That  some 
such  arrangement  would  be  nothing  more  than  justice  there 
can  be  no  question,  and  that  some  principle  of  Divine  Justice 
must  exist  was  instinctively  known  long  before  it  was  explicitly 
declared  by  the  inspired  apostle,  for  references  to  such  com- 
pensation are  found  throughout  the  Psalms.  Even  Job  him- 
self, sunk  as  he  was  in  the  very  depth  of  afflictions,  could  say : 
"  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him  ;  but  I  will 
maintain  my  own  ways  before  Him.  He  also  shall  be  my 
salvation  ;  for  an  hypocrite  shall  not  come  before  Him."  So 
far,  then,  as  man  is  concerned,  this  problem  of  apparent  ine- 
quality is  not  so  difficult  of  solution,  for  he  knows  only  too 
well  that  in  spite  of  his  hard  and  bitter  earth-life  that  Divine 
Justice  will  be  more  than  vindicated  in  the  life  beyond  the 
grave  to  which  he  aspires.  But  in  the  case  of  the  lower 
animals,  granting  that  they  have  no  future  existence,  what, 
I  ask,  becomes  of  Divine  Justice  ?  In  this  land  of  enlighten- 
ment we  meet  with  many  animals  that  are  treated  with  the 
greatest  kindness  by  their  masters,  and  others,  endowed  with 
capacities  that  are  not  a  whit  inferior  to  their  more  fortunate 
brethren,  that  are  treated  with  the  utmost  cruelty.  While 
one  is  petted  and  pampered,  another  is  abused  and  given 
over  to  the  pangs  of  hunger  and  starvation.  If  there  is  a 
future  life  for  these  animals,  it  is  simply  impossible  to  recog- 
nize in  their  Maker  that  justice  which  sensible,  reasoning 


486  Life  and  Immortality. 

man  should  expect.  Such  an  injustice,  as  shown  by  the 
lives  which  we  have  contrasted,  would  be  too  flagrant  for 
any  human  being  to  perpetrate,  unless  such  a  being  was 
wholly  deficient  in  the  ideas  of  right  and  wrong.  But  on 
the  supposition  that  these  animals  possess  immortal  souls, 
and  that  there  is  for  them  a  future  life  in  which  these  souls 
shall  be  developed  to  their  fullest  capacities,  then  these 
apparent  discrepancies  can  be  reconciled  with  Absolute  Jus- 
tice and  Perfect  Love.  In  His  dealings  with  the  lower  ani- 
mals, as  with  ourselves,  God  looks  to  the  spiritual  rather 
than  the  material  world,  and  by  the  means  of  the  one 
instructs  and  prepares  his  pupils  for  the  other.  With  Paul 
I  firmly  believe  that  suffering  in  the  present  world  has  for  its 
object  a  preparation  for  and  an  introduction  to  a  future  life,  and 
therefore  am  thoroughly  convinced  that  any  creature  capable 
of  suffering  has  in  that  capacity  its  passport  to  an  eternal 
world. 

Another  step,  that  is,  the  possession  of  Individuality, 
as  connected  with  Immortality,  now  presses  forward  for 
consideration.  As  for  man,  did  he  not  possess  Individu- 
ality, no  diverseness  of  management  would  be  needed,  for 
all  would  be  treated  in  a  similar  manner.  No  two  faces  in 
man  are  precisely  alike,  for  the  very  simple  reason  that  no 
two  souls,  of  which  the  countenance  is  an  indication,  are 
alike.  The  same  rule,  no  matter  what  may  be  affirmed  to 
the  contrary,  holds  good  among  the  lower  animals.  To 
the  casual  observer  no  apparent  difference  can  be  detected 
between  any  two  individuals  of  a  flock  of  sheep,  a  portrait 
of  one  equally  resembling  that  of  any  other.  But  a  shep- 
herd, who  understands  his  business,  will  readily  distinguish 
every  sheep  of  his  flock,  as  well  as  describe  the  mental 
peculiarities  of  each  individual.  One  ordinary  yellow  canary 
looks  just  like  another  yellow  canary  to  the  ordinary  vision, 
while  in  reality  the  mental  character  of  each  bird  is 
impressed  just  as  strongly  upon  its  countenance  as  are 
human  qualities  upon  that  of  man.  This  quality  it  is,  both 


Future  Life.  487 

in  man  and  beast,  that  implies  a  separate  treatment  for  each 
individual,  and  becomes  a  plea  for  an  immortality  of  life.  I 
am  not  alone  in  this  idea.  It  is  simply  astounding  how 
Individuality  in  the  lower  animals  is  ignored  by  man.  The 
generality  of  grooms  treat  all  horses  as  though  they  were 
just  so  many  machines  turned  out  of  the  same  mould,  and  to 
be  treated  just  like  machines.  There  is  in  every  species  a 
double  kind  of  Individuality.  One  kind  there  is  that  is 
common  to  the  entire  species,  and  then  there  is  in  addition 
to  .this  common  characteristic  another  that  distinguishes 
each  separate  being  from  its  fellows.  It  is  the  former  that 
makes  a  species  what  it  is,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
each  will  exist  in  the  future  life,  and  that  both  may  be 
capable  of  development.  The  dog,  the  horse,  the  lion  and 
the  elephant,  and  in  truth  all  animals  that  may  be  fitted  to 
survive,  will  be  in  the  other  world  what  they  are  in  this. 
They  will  be  better  animals  in  that  world,  just  as  we  hope 
to  be  better  men,  but  they  will  not  approach  us  any  nearer 
than  they  do  in  the  earth-life. 

Man  does  not,  as  some  are  foolish  enough  to  claim,  lower 
the  condition  of  humanity  the  least  by  granting  immortality 
to  the  lower  animals.  If  they  be  immortal,  as  the  evidence 
adduces  most  strongly  shows,  there  is  not  the  slightest  use 
of  denial.  We  cannot  shirk  a  fact,  and  even  if  we  could, 
we  ought  not  to  do  it.  Such  an  argument,  which  seeks  to 
elevate  man  by  depreciating  his  lower  fellow-creatures,  is  not 
very  creditable  to  humanity.  In  announcing  the  belief  that 
the  lower  animals  share  immortality  with  man  in  the  higher 
world,  as  they  share  mortality  in  this,  does  not  claim  for 
them  the  slightest  equality.  Man  will  be  man  and  beast  will 
be  beast,  and  insect  will  be  insect,  in  the  next  world  as  they 
are  in  this.  They  are  living  exponents  of  Divine  Ideas,  as 
is  evident  from  the  Scriptures  and  the  teachings  of  science, 
and  will  be  wanted  to  continue  in  the  world  of  spirit  the 
work  which  they  have  begun  in  the  world  of  matter.  True  it 
is,  as  has  been  asserted,  that  because  a  man  can  transmit  his 


488  Life  and  Immortality. 

ideas  to  the  lower  animals,  there  is  evidence  that  they  possess 
a  spirit  which  is  able  to  communicate  with  the  spirit  of  man. 
When  a  man  gives  an  order  to  his  dog,  and  is  obeyed,  there 
is  proof  that  both  possess  spirits,  similar  in  quality,  though 
differing  in  degree.  We  know  that  to  give  an  order  to  a 
plant  would  be  useless  and  absurd,  because  the  plant  has  not 
the  spirit  that  can  respond  to  the  spirit  of  the  man  in  the 
same  manner  that  a  dog's  or  a  horse's  spirit  can,  but  the 
inability  so  to  respond  does  not  prove  that  the  plant  is 
devoid  of  a  spirit.  That  the  spirit  of  the  plant  does  respond 
to  the  spirit  of  the  man,  when  it  adapts  itself  to  the  condi- 
tions which  the  spirit  of  the  man  has  imposed  upon  it,  there 
can  be  no  question,  or  the  many  hundred  plants  which  have 
been  reclaimed  from  a  state  of  wildness  by  a  judicious  and 
careful  management  upon  the  part  of  man  would  have  been 
among  the  impossibilities  of  modern  civilization.  The  spirit 
of  man  must  have  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  plant,  and  held 
communion  therewith,  or  the  world  to-day  would  not  have 
been  blessed  with  its  manifold  cereals,  fruits  and  vegetables, 
all  of  which  have  been  rendered  possible  for  use  by  the  spirit 
of  man  entering  into  an  understanding  with  the  nature,  wants 
and  peculiar  dispositions  of  the  plants  about  him.  No  less  are 
plants  living  exponents  of  Divine  Ideas  than  worms,  insects, 
beasts  and  men  are,  and  as  such  living  exponents,  they  are  as 
much  needed  in  the  future  existence,  at  least  such  as  are  fitted 
to  continue  in  the  spirit-world  the  work  begun  in  the  world  of 
matter,  as  are  the  higher  forms  of  animal  beings.  As  plants  go  a 
great  ways  towards  making  this  earth-life  a  paradise  of  beauty 
and  delight,  and  have  ever  been  associated  through  the  ages 
with  animal  life,  each  of  the  two  great  kingdoms  of  life  from 
simple  beginnings  attaining  to  higher  and  still  higher  devel- 
opment up  to  the  present  period — the  Era  of  Mind — it  cannot 
be  possible  that  the  two  will  have  become  suddenly  divorced 
when  the  temporal  or  earth-life  is  about  to  pass  into  the 
eternal  or  spirit-life.  Heaven  would  not  be  Heaven  without 
the  plants  that  we  have  cultured,  and  tended,  and  admired. 


Future  Life.  489 

Concluding,  then,  let  me  say,  I  claim  not  for  the  lower 
animals  the  slightest  equality  with  man.  What  I  claim  for 
them  is  a  higher  status  in  creation  than  is  generally  attributed 
to  them.  I  claim  for  them  a  future  life,  where  they  will 
receive  a  just  compensation  for  the  sufferings  which  so 
many  of  them  have  to  undergo  in  this  world.  Most  of  the 
cruelties  which  are  perpetrated  upon  animals  are  due  to  the 
habit  which  man  has,  in  his  exalted  opinion  of  self,  of  con- 
sidering them  as  mere  automata,  without  susceptibilities, 
without  reason  and  without  the  capacity  of  a  future.  That 
I  have  achieved  the  purpose,  with  which  I  set  out,  of  proving 
that  all  life  is  immortal,  or  that  soul  exists  in  plants  and 
animals,  I  think  must  be  admitted.  If  this  doctrine  of 
immortality  shall  have  the  effect  of  bringing  about  a  more 
humane  treatment  of  the  animals  over  which  man  has  been 
given  dominion,  and  thus  contribute,  be  it  ever  so  little, 
to  their  well-being  and  happiness,  even  in  this  life,  then  the 
object  attained  will  be  felt  to  be  a  just  and  worthy  recom- 
pense for  the  thought  and  labor  which  have  been  expended 
in  its  support  and  defence.  Not  alone  are  we  of  the  upper 
walks  of  being  made  the  possessors  of  the  inner  life,  but  all 
nature  shares  it  in  common  with  us,  and  love  is  its  expres- 
sion and  the  method  of  its  action. 


THE  END. 


